This tiny, delightful creature — who will be THREE on Saturday — is the love of my life. The fact that she gets swaddled in a soft, sweet-smelling receiving blanket and held and sniffed and kissed for several hours a day, just like someone who emerged from my very own vagina, means two things:
1) SHE’S A LITTLE BABY, and
2) There is something SERIOUSLY FUCKING WRONG WITH ME.
Many years from now, as per my wishes, her ashes will be mixed in with mine and Gregory’s…and we will all be together forever — lounging on a cloud, knitting, playing Weboggle, and watching Antiques Roadshow until the end of time.
Mama loves you, Pearlie Mae!