6:30 a.m. Half awake I hear creak, scrap, thump, whump, jingle, clatter. Kicking Rob in the leg I whisper, “I think Violet is sitting on the kitchen floor eating brown sugar.” Groaning, he gets out of bed.
A few minutes later he comes back in and points an accusing finger, “You were SO wrong. She is at the table eating brown sugar.”
She is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen. Seriously!! She doesn’t need brown sugar to make her sweet 🙂
you know her very well, lady! what a sweet story.
I love this child so much that my heart aches!!