In our kitchen yesterday, Suzie turned to me and said, “I like cards.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. I like cards. With smushy things written inside them,” she grinned, “Just in case you were wondering.”

I love her subtlety.

Without further ado:

She exaggerates.
She’s contagious.
She goes big or goes home.
She’s prone to absurdly dramatic gestures in the name of love and romance.
In her book, emotions are infinitely more important than practicality or convenience.
She giggles.
She likes pink.
She looks great in a sweater vest.
She pretends to know everything.
She doesn’t pretend to know everything.
She cooks well.
My home will look like a library for the rest of my life.
She asks her students, “what do YOU think?”
She likes teaching teenagers.
She likes making faces at babies.
She doesn’t notice homophobia.
She owns a neon tie dyed shirt.
She knows better than to wear that shirt outside.
She’s a good driver.
We’re both the Ernie, and no one’s the Bert.
She’s a New Yorker–but not a Yankees fan.  
She’s really good at using apple products.
Her friends and family are awesome.
She wrestles with her theology on a regular basis.
She listens to me.
She likes shoveling the driveway.
She’s so interesting to talk to, she makes my insomnia worse.
She writes well.

and one to grow on:

Her smile.

Thank you darling, for reminding me every single day of how happy I am that you were born. Happy Birthday, Suzie!

Lag B Blog Day 13