I'm not sure who it was intended for (because it's in written with Greek letters).
I'm not sure why Emma would write something using the Greek alphabet. I'm not sure about a lot of things about that girl.
Sometimes she makes things more clear though.
It was her turn this year to set up our little Christmas village. (You wouldn't believe the negotiations that have to take place over whose turn it is for what. Oh? You're a mother? Then you do believe me.) Emma proudly configured the houses and people on top of the piano. She was excited to show it all to Adam when he got home.
"This is my house," she said...
"...here's you and me, Dad..."
"...there's Mark's son with the tree and my daughter and her friend by the snowmen..."
"...there's Braeden with his son..."
"...there's Mark..."
 |
| Am I the only one that feels nervous that Mark is holding an ax? |
"...there's Braeden's daughter on the swing and my son..."
Adam asked, "So where's your mom?"
Emma paused. "Um...I guess she's in the house."
Sometimes I get embarrassed by the effusive love and attention my children shower me with.
Janet and I like to tell each other the following quote at such times:
Motherhood is not for the fainthearted. Frogs, skinned knees and the insults of teenage girls are not meant for the wimpy.
~ Danielle Steel
And she isn't even a teenage girl yet.
Help.
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