Oh, the smiles you inspire.
Dear Annie Elizabeth:
Your voice, I’ve come to realize, is like birdsong. Your chatter in the mornings as we get ready for work and school, the kind where you are preoccupied with little figurines in the midst of some drama, is easy and bright. Something there is so lovely about a child-soprano tittering throughout the house.
This verbal measure has increased noticeably as you’ve approached your third trip around the sun. When you were younger, your mother and I laughed that with two talkative siblings, you may never have a chance to get a word in edgewise.
You’ve shown no signs of letting Julia and Thomas get in your way, though.