So if you stopped in yesterday, you saw a picture of my beautiful daughter Rosie all gussied up for the 8th grade graduation dinner dance (she's on the left, in pink)
Fred didn't get home till after she left for the dance, so he was really looking forward to when she returned home, so he could see how pretty she looked.
I had showed him the pictures on the computer, and we were shaking our heads in disbelief at how grown up she had become, how elegant she looked.
The time finally arrived. From the dogs barking, we knew she had gotten dropped off from her ride.
We heard her shoes clip-clopping as she ran along the deck to the kitchen door.
The door opened and she swirled in in a heartbeat, her cheeks flushed and her dress billowing all around her.
She was a vision of feminine grace.
Fred: Rosie, you look beautiful! How was the dance?
Me: Yes, come sit down and tell us all about it!
Rosie: Can't now. I gotta go change so I can hunt rats with Garrett and James in the barn! Here, hold my fish....
And she was gone. And I was left, quite literally, holding the bag (of the beta fish she won at the dance).
Fred (to me): The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?
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