because I have so many pictures of her lately,
and because she is just so cute.
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she makes herself heard when she wants to be.
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because she doesn't want to come in,
and its so warm laying in the sun.
who had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
she was very, very good.
And when she was bad she was horrid.
Okay, I may not remember that poem quite right, but it came to me when I saw her little curl at supper one night (and we laughed, because she was being very close to the horrid description).
1 comment:
My mom always said that poem, but I was never horrid ;) - Holly
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