There once was a girl.
Who had a little curl.
Right in the middle of her forehead
When she was good, she was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid...
I couldn't tell you how many times I read this poem to Leigh Anne before she went to bed. It was a favorite of us both.
I like this snapshot Leigh Anne took of herself. It seems to exude the self confidence that she has. The other day I was visiting with a friend about Leigh Anne and telling her how she was doing in college. (It is always fun for me to talk about my children.)
My friend commented that Leigh Anne had the best of both Teague and I.
Hmmm...I'm thinking she has more than the best of me.
Happy Birthday Snic!
Love, Dad
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