Felicity and Angela spent the evening at the babysitter’s so that Momma could get some work done. (The older three were at choir.)
I received the following report when I picked them up:
It seems that Angela had a streak of something blue in her blond hair. Coulda been marker, coulda been food, coulda been a run-in with one of these guys…
With this kid, one never knows.
M. the babysitter reached out to touch the unidentified blue stuff and asked, “Angela, what’s in your hair?”
Angela paused to think about that, but only for a moment.
“Your hand?” she then replied.
Ad Jesum per Mariam,