You naughty thing!
Standing on the table, chewing on things I don’t even want to name.
Shrieking at ants, biting your sister, whining whining whining so you never get the blame.
Who is is my little piece of work, my little creative creation? 2 years worth of brown curls shining gold in the sun. Big orange bucket swinging from your little bronze elbow losing its last inch of baby fat.
I don’t know where you got all these inches of cute or all these feet of peals of giggles that must be a feat to untwirl like the tangles in your golden curls.
And like the way you simply must twirl til you’re dizzy as you’ll get, to the ballerina music in your tulle princess dress.
with pink flowers in your hair.
Or how I can even put a measure on all of who you are and what you do to me when you come to me, arms open wide, whining for your