sweet heart
Every night after I tucked her into bed, I sang to her, a silly song, a made-up song, our song. “Stay little, stay little, little little stay; little stay little stay little.”
She would giggle and I would smile. The next morning I would say: “Look at you. You grew. The song didn’t work.” 
It seems to me now that our song must have had some magic because all the nights I sang it, she remained a baby…
She played with dolls ,she is like those wooden dolls that nest one inside the other, identical in everything but size.
Or at least that’s how I saw her. she is a little princess, sweet candy.
