Our youngest granddaughter turns 7 today. We just called to impress her with our melodious pipes as we sing “Happy Birthday”, but she and her dad are on an emergency run to Toys ‘r Us. We’ll try back later.
She’s a special little gal: the baby, the last grandchild, born on Good Friday. Filipino children are all beautiful, with their dark hair and eyes. She’s no exception. Her siblings have gotten to the age that my little bride and I don’t know what to buy them on birthdays; cash has proven to be the universal antidote for that. Little Tat is still young enough to really make us believe she really likes that yellow dress that Grandpa picked out, or the t-shirt with a frog on it, that Grandma chose.
We’ll have to wait a day or two to hear her gratitude; the box with the aforementioned duds, and a bunch of other cute little outfits, is still in transit. MLB1 and I waited until well past the last minute to do her birthday shopping. Now at 7, she will know what the term belated birthday means. Can’t teach ‘em too young, I always say.
Happy Birthday, Tatiana Cheyenne2!
-k-
![[Valid Atom 1.0]](http://www.quietvoice.org/wp-images/valid-atom.png "Validate my Atom 1.0 feed")