I've known Little Angel's mom since she was seven herself. That's her in the purple sweater, and her sisters, whom I've known since they were wee little girls.
As little as this little spunk, who is Little Angel's little sister. Have I used "little" plenty enough already?
I'll use "little" again to describe this little boy, who is Little Angel's li-, okay fine, BABY brother.
Baby Brother is a spitting image of his dad.
As I was saying... today was a special day because we were celebrating Little Angel's seventh birthday.
One thing about children's birthdays is that it brings out the child in the adult. Little Angel's aunt playing catch-the-bouncing-ball.
Bubbles. It's like popping bubble wrap. You just have to blow bubbles.
Ah, the exhilaration of flying through the air. Wee!
How can one resist the opportunity to blow a whistle?
Silly Nana, don't you know toys are for kids?
See, take the kiddy toys away, and the adults are just boring old folks who sit around talking about how oatmeal is good for the heart, and that fiber is good for the... um... soul. Yeah, the soul. It cleanses one's soul.
Cherish your single digit years Little Angel. Stay young!
Happy birthday!
.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.