Sunday, July 7, 2013


May I gush?
Aren't babies dear?
My tiny granddaughter is eight months old and I am amazed at the slavish devotion we all feel to her. Not one of us is exempt.
She can wave her little hand in greeting now, her face wreathed in dimple and smile and we all light up like Christmas trees.
Her big sister takes things a step further and copiously anoints her with kisses, a firm believer in the more is more camp.
The other day as the baby and I watched her big brother pumping ever higher on the swing, he suddenly asked, "What does admire mean?"
"It means you think something is very like it." I said.
"I'm admiring my sister," he stated earnestly.

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