Most parents I know like to rave about their precious offspring. I'm no different, I suppose. Here are three vignettes that seem to typify my eldest, Miss Miriam.
One morning, my husband asked me, "Did Miriam help you make the banana bread?"
"Because I smelled something funny when it was toasting, then felt something chewy when I bit into it, then pulled a rubber band out of it!"
I heard Miriam crying in an unusually alarmed way. She ran over to me, crying, "Help, Mama!" She was rubbing one eye so I took a closer look. Her extra-long eyelashes had become stuck inside her lower lid and she needed help extricating them.
We were at a farm festival where a local band played on a makeshift stage. John and Miriam went ahead of me while I fed Will in the car. As I walked up to the festival, I heard the band leader calling all dancers over his microphone. Then he asked, "where's Miriam? She'd get up and dance!"
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