Hours later I spied her transporting water from the kitchen to the backyard.....This could only mean one thing. Mud. Not good. I didn't rush out, the damage was already done, right? I hesitantly followed her path of puddles to the porch where I found the dress, discarded.
My radiant little Phoebe. How can I not appreciate her zest for life! She sings her heart out to Francesca Battistelli, drags around a worn out blanket, demands an audience, and adds color (literally) to my life.
|Just a little finger paint Mom...|
|But Mommy, the baby wanted me to color on her face!|