My dear Pippi

Sometimes she makes me speechless. Those bright blue eyes of hers. That beautiful red hair. Those enchanting freckles. Really. She is ridiculously cute.

Today, like many days lately, she is Pippi. I must call her so. She is dressed in what she considers her “Pippi” outfit: white long-sleeve shirt, jean overalls dress with silver buckles, leggings with multi-colored stars, one black sock (her father’s with the heel about halfway up her leg), one pink/brown striped sock (mine) and her shiny black shoes. Hair in tight braids. Yep. Pippi.

“Did you know that is South Africa cats are called ‘Caddys’ and they climb trees with their sharp claws and pee at the top and it lands on people as they walk down the street?” No.

“Did you know that in parts of Spain you have to eat jellybeans and if you don’t they throw you in jail and they force you to eat only jellybeans.” Nope.

“Did you know that in the Bahamas they have animals that look like flamingos, but have heads that look like a moose and the antlers are heart-shaped and they prance around?” I did not.

She says these things with a sparkle in her eyes that can only be described of as joy. Each declaration is followed by a smile that lights her entire face up and a little smirk. She loves being Pippi. And I love it too.

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