Yes, Ella.

I sat in the den, working away on the computer.  Reading about Charitable Registrations and the Unified Registration Statement, and about attachments for each of the 40 jurisdictions that require registration, and other equally boring items. 

And then I got this note in an email from The Man, detailing a conversation he overheard between Ella and William:

Ella: “William…”

Ella: “William…”

William: “What?”

Ella:  “Do you like my flip flops?”

William: “Do you always have to ask that?”

Ella: “Say yes.”

William:  “Fine.”

Ella: “Just say yes.”

William: “Yes.”

Ella:  “Yay!”

 She’s a hoot.

 

I’ll bet I’ve read this note twenty times since he sent it.  There she was, in her fleece froggy jammies, with her tangly red hair and those hand-me-down flip-flops that she found in her closet yesterday.  It’ll be three or four years before they fit her, but she was intent on wearing them around the house and making certain that everyone agreed that they were as lovely as she thought they were.  You really just have to go along with whatever she says, or else. 

I would like to go wake her up right now and squeeze her. 

I love that little firecracker.

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Yes, Ella.

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