Daddy's Girl

Yesterday, taking a walk, I came around a corner and saw a big, burly, muscle-bound guy with a shaved head coming toward me.

Then, as I got closer, I saw that a little girl—probably no more than 3 or 4, with long curly, blond hair--had him by the hand and was leading him down the driveway. She was prattling on about the need to find caterpillars. He was carefully responding to her comments—really listening to what she had to say.

They were both equipped with small paper bags, to put their squirmy catch in, I imagine. He looked up at me and smiled. It was the smile of a man totally, completely captivated by his daughter.

Talking in the Morning

My husband likes to talk in the morning...and talk and talk and talk. No idea is too small to verbalize, no thought goes unexpressed.

It is a bad, bad thing.