I must be pretty desperate for content if I’m willing to share this photo with you. It’s me, at about two years old sporting the worst haircut ever! How could my mother do that to me? I particularly love that curl that seems to have a mind of its own. Reminds me of the poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
The day the picture was taken, I was being Continue reading