Meet my five-year-old’s future wife…
Meet Maggie. Maggie is the daughter of my dear friend Alison. Alison and I are such good friends that we cherish a not-so-secret hope that we will one day be legally related. In fact, despite the fact that I moved to our high school a year and a half after she did, had different last names, and different accents many teachers thought we were sisters. Evidently the Michigan accent is indiscernable from the Canadian one to a New York ear.
Remember Leif and the blueberries?
Say 'hi!' to Mags, Leify...
This morning, Alison heard Maggie shuffling around in the bathroom. When Alison asked Maggie what she was doing, Maggie responded with something along the lines of, “Not playing with your biptick, Mummy.” You judge:
Did she or didn't she? (I actually think she did a bloomin' wonderful job applying it for a 3 year old. She does better than I do...
Did Miss Mags get into the biptick and did Leif get into the blueberries?
Clearly, Maggie and Leif have a similar personality. This led Alison and I to arrange their marriage. Skip all those dreaded heart-breaking teen years and whatnot. I think we’re onto something.
