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Huddled close to her favorite stuffed bear, her cherubic face buried into one of the balding spots on her beloved friend's chest, she sleeps. She is blissful next to that aging bear, whos came into our possession even before she. That bear that desparately needs to join a "hair club for bears." My lovely girl.
So, arms laden with clean clothes, waiting to be folded, I escorted my sweet child to my room. "Mama will make your bed later, you sleep!" She came with me today while I got my shoulder length brown hair chopped off around my ears. I couldn't stand the fuss and wildness of the main I sported for so many months. My daughter Hannah laughed at my new hair style. "You look like a man!" I told her that was not a nice thing to say, and that she simply wasn't adjusted yet to the way I would now - for a while - wear my hair. Truth be told, I wasn't used to it either. A little lipstick, a pinch of the cheeks, and a pair of earrings transformed me. Now, because I am a petite woman, barely five feet tall and slim, I looked positively gamine-like. Hannah smiled at me as I applied my make-up. She is my constant shadow. With Hannah in tow, I picked up the laundry and headed home. Hannah said she wanted pizza. "We've go some mini pizza bagels in the freezer," I told her. She shrieked with enthusiasm. While I folded laundry in the living room, paying little attention to the campy B movie that just came on T.V., Hannah ate her four cheese-and pepperoni topped bagels with gusto. Still hungry afterwards, she polished off a dish of pear sauce, sort of like apple sauce. Now, she sleeps, comfortable, secure, and the apple of my eye.
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