The Trophy

When Rylee finished up soccer this fall, she got a trophy. As seen here:

It was a fine day.
She was proud.
And she wasn't afraid to rub Maggie's nose in it.
"Ha ha. I got a trophy and you-ooh-ooh didn't"

My sweet Bear Cub has a way of pouting that will melt your heart faster than a quivering chin, so Troy dug around in the garage and found some cheesy appreciation award he got. We told her she got a trophy for being a good soccer game cheerleader. If you ask her how she got her trophy, she will tell you she got it from golf, or from soccer or tell you a three minute explination of which even the I can't decipher one word.

And every night as I tuck her sweaty little body into bed, she scans her surroundings, frantically trying to find her prize.  "My Trosey, My Trosey" she whimpers.  It's the weirdest security blanket I've ever seen. Well...maybe not as weird as her baby that looks like it got run over by a BMX bike gang.