Friday, March 14 1997
Drew’s 6th birthday. We share a private day. After school we go to the Galaxy Diner in Provo for lunch. Drew is excited, in a dignified way. She gets weenies and fries. I ask upon ordering if there are any special birthday treats. They don’t really say anything, but as we get close to finishing the waitering corps come out with a big ice cream treat, all singing vigourously. I reach quickly for Drew’s hand. She is mortified of course, but a little pleased too, and though she appears to be staring a hole in the napkin dispenser she also sneaks surreptitious glances at us celebrators. Me, mostly, and as I look intently at her I’m quite moved by her tender modesty and overall beauty. At the end she whispers “thank you.” Later she spills ice cream all over her new shoe. The she quietly starts cleaning it up. Lest I over idealize, I should point out that ice cream spills can also send her into tizzies.