H, we were talking about something the other day.
I forget what.
But my answer was something about grit and persistence.
That might take 10 years
Without hesitation you responded:
Wow. 10 years is a long time.
I get it.
I was 6, almost 7, once too.
The days and weeks and months went on forever.
(Christmas Eve was the slowest of all.)
But don’t blink sweet girl, 10 years can go by in a flicker.
I love you.
-Dad
Southcrest had a T-shirt design contest.
Here was your submission.
(Sure, dad may have helped with the phrasing.)
Honestly, it could not be more perfect.
I love you.
-Dad
T, you have so much hair.
I mean, you have more hair than H and K had – put together – at the same age.
For now it is absolutely gorgeous and still dark.
But just on top, where one’s bald spot would normally be, you have a large whisp of hair bunched together.
It is frequently sticking up in the air after a good night sleep, but Mom likes bushing it and styling it after your baths.
All that to say, H calls it your “floof.”
Or – sometimes – your “floofy.”
As in:
Let me have a turn. I want to comb T’s floofly!
Mom and I have gotten a big kick out of it.
Don’t you ever cut that floof off…
I love you.
-Dad