It’s kinda like cuddling up to a porcupine.
She wants me to hold her, always.
But if I dare try to sneak in a kiss, she frantically cries,
“I don’t like smooches, Mama!”
And promptly rubs off every trace.
Or if I run my fingers through her hair,
She “hmmphs!” away from me and gives me a dirty little scowl.
I often pine for the fact that we didn’t name her Ethne.
It’s what I always thought her name should be.
After all, it means “little fire”
And those of you who know our Gwyn have seen the spitfire she can be.
It’s also Scottish.
And when I see those gorgeous strawberry curls…
But perhaps she will have a little sister just like her
And maybe she’ll be our Ethne instead.
That's better.
There is a sweet side to counteract all that sour...
If there's a chocolate chip bribe in the works.
