Not Pouting

I used to have a daughter.

Technically, I still do. But I mean she used to be my daughter, a real true-blue mama's girl. My Royal Princess.

But suddenly, I think I might've lost my girl. . .

To that man there. That Preacher. Did you see him?

Yeah, I think the Preacher has stolen my baby girl's heart. *sniff* Preachers aren't supposed to steal, are they? Don't you feel sorry for me, dear reader?

You should hear the way my Princess says, "Hey, Daaaadddddyyyyy!" It's ridiculous.

I just can't figure out why she'd prefer him to me. Is it because I put her in timeout. . .

. . . While he does this?
On second thought, I just might like that Preacher after all. He's good to my girl. Maybe he'd be willing to share that sweet baby Princess with his old wife.

Either way, all I know is this -- I'm keeping this one:

Tonight at church I picked him up to hug his neck, and someone did a double-take. I'm not sure if it's because he's almost as tall as I am, or because he looks older than his five years, but that Little Man is still --

My son
My boy, and
My kidlet,

And I plan to pick him up and hug his neck as long as I can.

Too bad the Princess won't let me hug her anymore.

Definitely not pouting at all,
Becki~