Why is it that as soon as our Turtles started sleeping through the night Vivi started getting up four or five times?
Why is it that, after a freak white-water rafting mishap ten years ago, I needed to sacrifice a molar to the oral surgeon four days before Thanksgiving?
Why is it that other people tell you how sweet and curious and polite your three-year-old is but you, the mother, rarely see that behavior at home?
My husband says that all this is just Murphy's Law.
Why is it that I forgot that the rug cleaners were supposed to come at 8:30 this morning yet I still managed to have on decent pajamas and a polar fleece jacket thick enough to cover my braless state?
That, my friends, is really good luck.
Today, like most days, I am thankful for my good luck. Sure, it's not lucky to be getting up frequently at night, to have a crater-sized hole where my molar used to be, or to have to deal with a really cranky kid. BUT if I never had the good luck to meet my husband, I wouldn't have all of the wonderful things that I have in my life now.