‘Ma’am;’ my tiny student gleams; ‘one day;’ ah, I think, here goes a story; ‘one day, when you’re a little girl, I’m going to marry you.’ He skips off, unburdened.
A kindly hilarity hits me repeatedly. I smile at the clear pendant of moon that dangles low over the curvy home road. At the turn to Lawhitton, cloud curls up over the moon’s edges. I regard this magnificent mottled sky and, maybe thinking of adornments and romantic heroes, the phrase ‘chest wig’ arises in the busy part of my brain that likes to find new ways of seeing things. 

Not a single chest wig photo?
Here is a picture of Baby being surprised instead.


The Cranky said…
The thought of a chest wig would most likely leave me with a similar expression; in point of fact, I believe it has.

What a sweetly humourous 'proposal', at least the wee man has good taste.
Suze said…
Now, it's a pendant. :)
Love the silly image of a chest wig.

That little fella was innovative. He wants you to be a little girl again. Little fellas used to tell me "when they grew up" they wanted to marry me. Not anymore, alas. Guess the little tykes can't even IMAGINE being this old. HA!

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