by ayallawt | October 20, 2009 1:47 pm
C’est bon mama, said my little francophone. It’s good mommy. For the first time, I heard these words coming out of her little mouth. My impossibly tiny toddler who systematically refuses to follow any growth curve known to man, who survived her sickly second year of life on grapes and cheese, who wears out her clothing before outgrowing them, who will spot the one lonesome bag of carrots in a shop full of candy, devoured, by herself, her entire plate of meatballs. C’est bon mama, she said.
My tears? I blame the breast feeding hormones.
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