Friday, October 9, 2009

A daughter's love

After a very frustratingly short nap today, from which Elise awoke crying, I went into her room to get her out of her crib. I walk in to find her standing, waiting to be rescued from her misery. She stops crying long enough to ask me, "where's Poppa?"

To which I answer, "at work", as I prepare to lift her up. Her response?

The wailing and gnashing of teeth, all the while falling to her knees and moaning in great despair, "Poppa, Poppa, where'sa Poppa?"

Ahhhhh, to be loved.

2 comments:

phonelady said...

How utterly cute that she calls fred poppa . I called my daddy poppa too . and everyone always asked me why do you call your dad poppa . I dont know it just started when I was little .

Kim said...

Josiah used to do that to me too. Hmm...still does. Someone else is always better than the Mommy who made me do something I didn't want to do. i.e. take a nap or get a shot or clean my room. :-)