HG and I were playing school. I was the teacher, and she was a bad girl playing on the school's roof. I called the principal to fuss at her, but she wouldn't get down. I called a police man, a firefighter, and even Santa, and the bad girl still wouldn't get down. Exasperated, I said, "Well, who else is there to call if she won't even listen to Santa? Jesus?" "Mommy, Jesus doesn't have a phone."
We made it 58 months before HG heard of Chuck E Cheese.
She attached herself to John when he got home from work. She was riding around on his back, and he was trying to shed her for a minute so that he could change out of his work clothes. She said, “I’m stuck on you- I’m like a backpack!”
There is a pic from John’s Ole Miss graduation in our den. HG noticed him in his graduation stole and asked, “Why is Daddy dressed like a priest?”
After Dr. Seuss day at school, HG told me, “Cat In the Hat was not written by a cat.”
After a pillow fight in her bed with her daddy one night, I moved to clean up her animals. She stopped me with, “Except it’s my fault. I should clean it up.” Talk about stopping me in my tracks. I wish I could say that I’ve heard this reasoning again though…ha!
Another clean bill of dental health. She sure does not get her lack of dental anxiety from her mama. She just climbed up there and kicked back. Cool as a cucumber.
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