I never had a little girl to shop for Easter dresses.

No tiny patent shoes. No frilly socks. No little white gloves or floral hats. And evidently, I missed picking out all those ruffles, laces, bows, and pastels more than I realized.

But apparently, life finds a way.

Enter Gonzo — my porch goose, my surprising seasonal emotional support animal, now the model recipient of a growing holiday wardrobe. What began as a simple decorative purchase quickly became something somewhat more meaningful: a full-blown opportunity to fill a very specific and previously unidentified soul hole dug by only having boy children—through festive goose attire.

Now, I know I used to think about how fun having a little girl would have been. But as my boys (and I) got older, I was actually very grateful God knew better than to bless me with a female-hormonal, overly dramatic (if she were to have taken after me), likely higher-maintenance human to raise. Don’t get me wrong; raising boys has its challenges for sure. But I’m sure I got off easier than my parents did raising my sisters and me.

However, sharing my sister’s young, sweet, adorable granddaughters with her family has definitely reawakened a yearning (yearning might be stronger-than-appropriate word) I thought was long gone. You know—all the fun girly stuff.

So—this Lenten season, Gonzo is wearing her Easter best, and I am experiencing an unreasonable amount of joy. Turns out, sometimes fulfillment arrives not in the form you expected — sometimes it shows up feathered, plastic, a little tacky, and wearing a tiny seasonal outfit.

And honestly? I’m having way too much fun and getting an abnormal amount of satisfaction from this bird.