I don’t ever call him pretty. But he is. And my heart strings are tugged hard when I see him in his element. When he’s singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious at the top of his lungs…but instead he says it as “SupercalifragilisticGETSMEalidocious.” I don’t correct him. When he dresses up as Bert. When he’s Oliver Twist. When He’s Mary Poppins. When he’s my tiny dancer in nothing but pink and frills. He’s pretty. No, he’s not just pretty. He’s beautiful. Inside and out.
Pretty In Pink
22 Feb This entry was published on 22 February 2012 at 3:10 am and is filed under Uncategorized.