We had tshirts. Hers said "C's best friend" and mine said "M's best friend". She bit me once while we were playing 'witch'. I got her back. Hit her in the face with a five iron. She has one dimple. In my defense, I was showing her something she missed at golf clinic (we were the only two girls in the clinic) and she was standing right in front of me. Truth be told, I probably felt worse about it than she did and I didn't take a golf club to the face.
Everyone has that friend from their childhood. The one who you danced in the driveway with (and hid in the garage when cars drove by) to "Like a Prayer." You may even remember the dance (there were lots of grapevines involved). She's my oldest friend. We've done a decent job of keeping in touch, not great but I know where she lives and have a vague idea of what she's up to and I can even keep tabs on her through my college friends. She is always late (maybe I'm being unfair). She WAS always late. However, her hair bows, tshirts, scrunchie socks and keds (or Sam & Libbys) always matched better than mine did.
I am early. To a fault.
Or almost always.
If I tell you I'll be there at 4, I'll probably be there at 3:50. It's a problem. I am NEVER late. Except for fashionably and it took me YEARS to figure out how to do that. And truth is, I'm always ready to go, I just make myself sit around until I know I can arrive at least 10 minutes late. It's barely fashionable. My better half has the same problem.
Everyone told us that once Cannon arrived that would go out the window. Didn't happen. He's early too. Call us good planners (I'm an excellent planner). Call us nerds for being clock conscience. I'm ok with it.
So, BGB. I thought she'd be late at first. She may still be late. But, if she's anything like her mother, she'll be early. And I'm talking the kind of early that makes you question if she has anything better to do. Truth is, she has nothing better to do than to give me heartburn, make it hard for me to sleep and continue to force me to gain weight. So, little lady. Let's go.
Oh, and those of you with two kids will laugh at this. However, I'm pretty sure that the Bests Part will still arrive early or at least exactly on time, even with two on our hands. It's in our blood. It's in our genes. We can't help it.
The Best part? The early bird gets the worm. And gets judged for showing up before the caterer does.