Over the weekend, I bought a couple toy boxes because Christmas multiplied the girls' collection by infinity. I filled one entire box with balls, and we still couldn't fit them all in there. McMister let Gracie climb into the box (despite my protests) and put as many balls in there with her as he could.
To add to the Gracie-ness of the activity, we had a Hank Williams CD playing in the background that my mom's husband had given McMister a few days before. He played it for Gracie in the car on the way home and said at the end of every single song on the CD, she would yell, "More music, Daddy!" When they walked in the door that night, Gracie ran in with a mega-smile across her face exclaiming, "Gacie love Honky Tonk Blues!"
She was so overtaken with ecstasy during the Ball Box Honky Tonk that she went completely calm for the first time ever in her life.
"It's like ball therapy," McMister said. "This is like what they would do to her if they were trying to get her to recall a trauma from her past."
"I mean, I knew she was weird," he continued, "but I think I underestimated her."
After literally several minutes of this, he came up with an idea. "We should let her sleep in there! This is what she's been waiting for since birth."