Miss G keeps telling me that she's growing up. Each day I am visually reminded of that very fact. Her legs look longer. Her shirts keep getting shorter. I have always called her "Baby" but she's starting to take exception to that name.
"I'm not a baby, ya' know."
"I know your not a baby, but I've always called you Baby. Do you want me to stop calling you Baby?"
"No...that's okay. You can call me Baby. I'm growing up, ya' know."
"Yeah, I know."
"I'm gonna' grow up and move away."
"Will I get you see you a lot?"
"Well, not every day. That would be too much."
"I thought you were going to grow up and marry Daddy or Uncle B and we were all going to live together. What happened to that plan?"
"I can't marry Daddy. I'm going to marry a grown up man like my Daddy only different and we're going to have twenty children."
"Twenty?!? That's a lot."
"Yeah, it is. But that's okay."
"Maybe you'd better discuss that with your husband."
"Why?"
"Uh....uh....uh....don't you think he'll want to have a say in how many children you have?"
"Why?"
"Most men do."
"He'll think twenty is okay. Well....maybe if I have twenty children you can come live with us."
"Sweetheart, if you have twenty children, I'll come to visit every once in a while. Every day would be too much."
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