Mom! Mom, look at me, I look like a grirl!A grirl is what he calls girls. And I just don't have it in me to correct him. In fact I kind of hope he calls them grirls forever.
But each night as we get ready for bed he stops just short of taking his t-shirts all the way off and jokes:
I look like a grirl!
Look at my silly long hair.
My hair is white mommy, and yours is messy.I find I can't help but just stop and laugh and suddenly realize how fast time moves.
Because I too remember doing just that. T-shirt pulled tight over my forehead, running around the house pretending I had hair that ran down my back. Laughing at the sleeves looking like rabbit ears. Giggling at how different I looked with no hair peeking out.
So yes, Eli. Yes, you do look like a grirl. Just like one I once knew.
