Yesterday afternoon, I put you, my youngest, precious, baby girl, on an airplane with your Uncle Joey and let you fly all the way to San Antonio for three whole days.
THREE WHOLE DAYS!
I waited for you to go through security because I was sure you wouldn't make it and I wanted to be right there when you decided you couldn't leave me for so long. Instead, you blew me a kiss and put your pink princess suitcase on the conveyor belt, thereby wrapping the very large security guard around your little finger.
Just as we were driving out of the airport, Uncle Joey called and I knew I was going to have to make a U-Turn and come and fetch you. Instead, he told me ya'll were sitting in Chili's having a big lemonade with a bendy straw and therefore the time of your life. You're pretty easy to please.
This morning, I woke up early, gassed up the car, got dressed and ready for the long drive I would certainly have to make to go and get my homesick little doodle. Instead, you were still sound asleep after a night of smores, non-stop play with your cousins, all topped off with a double-stuffed oreo snack right before bed. Seriously, who can compete with that?
I know you're getting bigger and you've even learned to ride your SeaStar bicycle.
You can even dress yourself, though judging from this picture, you may be fashionably challenged.
But the fact that you're miles away from me and not missing me even a little tiny bit is more than I can take. I want to be a fly on the wall, listening to your conversations and hearing you belly laugh. And making sure you put on a matching outfit.
I know it's impossible but, sometimes, when I see you growing up and doing things without my help, I wish I could laminate you and keep you little, and four, forever.
I love you, stinker.