Saturday, March 30, 2013

Don't Call Me a Honey

She just left the shop, Cloey. She belongs to a friend and is four years old and cute as a button. I instantly fell in love.

Somewhere during the conversation I called her, Honey.

She turns to me, stomps her little foot and said, "Stop calling me Honey."

We laughed. I knelt before her and took her into my arms, then said, "Okay, Sweetheart. I'll never again call you Honey."

Her, big smile. Then, "Good. I like Sweetheart. You can call me Sweetheart all day long."

I want a little girl. So bad.