Hi.  I’m Kelly.  My legs are covered in bruises because that’s how I roll.  I have scrapes on top of all ten of my toes.  I ran outside barefoot, jumped into my car, and then let my feet rub the concrete as I rolled down the driveway.  Doesn’t bother me a bit.  Why?  Because I’m scrappy.  See this hair?  This picture was taken right after a trim.  You can keep your salon…I have no use for it.  My hair goes its own way, much like me.

I just survived 32 days of diarrhea.  Did it bother me?  NO.  Did it slow me down?  NOPE.  Did I lose weight?  Half a pound, maybe. I put up with the doctor appointments and trips to the lab and probiotics and special diets.  Finally, last week, I sat down and ate dirt.  LOTS and LOTS of dirt.  Mommy thought I was gardening.  When she brought me inside to wash out my mouth, I went out onto the back porch, took the lid off her starter pots and…ate some more dirt.  Problem solved.  I’ve had no GI problems for 4 days.  You can just call me Dr. Kelly.  Do you know what’s cheaper than doctor appointments?  Dirt.

I wear tons of hand me downs.  Whatever.  They are new to me.  I’ve rubbed the ends off of all my shoes while playing outside.  It’s guaranteed that at all times, somewhere on me, is something sticky.  Or just a smudge of dirt.  Or food.  Whatever.  That’s how scrappy people like it.  I talk, I yell, I sing, I belch, I flirt without mercy.  I say I love you and diddoo (thank you) about 100x a day.  I plan on marrying Ernie from Sesame Street.

Sara calls me Boo Boo Chicken.  Mommy calls me Chick or Bea.  Daddy calls me Baby.  But you can just call me The Kel-Belle.  If you like dirt, dangerously high places, donuts, bananas, and The Brady Bunch soundtrack…we’re sure to be friends.