Maeve sat on my lap last night and twined her arm around my neck.
You're my flower, she whispered in my ear.
She leaned toward her dad and told him, You're my tulip. Mom's my daffodil. Patches is... a leaf.
Then she looked at me and asked, what am I?
I told her, you're my mint, sweet and delicious, and coming back bigger and stronger every spring.
What I wanted to say is, you're my sunshine. You help me grow.
But this kid already thinks the world revolves around her.
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