“So Mama, what’s it mean?”
Charlotte looked down upon her 4 year old daughter, Rebecca. Spitting image of her father, she was, or so Charlotte believed.
“John always said Rebecca got her beauty from me. What a considerate husband.”, Charlotte thought.
Rebecca stood waiting with her hands beside her body, head titled. Her green eyes sparkled with a curiosity that Charlotte loved to see. Blonde curls framed her round face and her rosy lips were pursed. Charlotte smiled at Rebecca, bent down to her level, and pushed a lock of hair behind Rebecca’s ear.
“You’ll know someday, my dear.”
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