I love that she thinks the hoover is a dog. I think it's because of the noise it makes when I'm using it. Every time she sees it she happily proclaims 'dog!' and pets the handle. Who knew a hoover could bring so much delight.
I love that every time every single time, she eats cous cous she sneezes and it goes everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. And even more, I love that she then proceeds to pick up each tiny grain and eat it. No morsel wasted when it comes to food, just like her parents.
I love that when she hears the front door to our building shut she looks towards the door hoping it means Daddy's home. She adores her Papa and he adores her.
I love that at some point, most afternoons, you'll find Phiney and I lying on our bed, staring out of the window at the trees. Or having cuddles and kisses, or reading a book, or having a nap. I hope those quiet, simple times together happen for years to come.
I love the fact that when she was eating her dinner a couple of nights ago she farted then laughed. Then I laughed and she laughed some more. I can't help it people, farts are funny.
And I love this goofy face. Because how could you not.
