Nettles update: three years

There are three things I know to be true:

  1. There are types of self confidence that cannot be bought or therapy’d into you.
  2. A kid who is comfortable being choosy about cake is going places.
  3. This is going to be one hell of a year.

So here we go.

The hills are alive… with the giggles of Nettles…

And where dresses are worn, all the time – to gan, to bed. The dress phase. I know you.

We’ve really gotten to know Nettles, the younger sister. The younger sister who looks up to her older sister as her dear leader, her mentor, her worldview.

We’ve also come to know Nettles, the older sister. The mistress of torture, the distributor of aggressive hugs, the doting cartoon character who squeezes her beloved puppy too hard.

And for a while we’ve been very familiar with Nettles, the tag-along. The one who wants her fair share but then destroys it because really, none of this matters anyway, amirite guys? Guys??

The Nettles who gets ‘er done. The Nettles who doesn’t cry over spilled milk. Nettles doesn’t even see the spilled milk. Nettles pushes forth and gets what she wants. Which is disgustingly limp cornflakes.

Oh hey, Ima, look – milk!

One hell of a year, Nettles. Keep on moving.

Whadya got: