Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Maeve's Beautiful Language

Last night, we drove to a friend's house after dinner; a rare enough occurrence that Maeve got a chance to take in the lights of Broomfield after dark.

Mom. The horizon is sparkling like a sparkling jewel, she said.

I am raising a poet.

Later that night, as I put her to bed, I heard this: When that chicken listens to his sock like it's a phone, it jokes me up!

Some days her language just flows like a river, and all I can do is try to keep up!

stock photo from cagurl23 at DeviantArt

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