During the prep for our cooking class, Bronagh and Ashling (Traci’s girls) wandered in and out either as themselves, princesses, or as a dog and cat.
Those freckles! Ah! They kill me.
Bronagh is in a delightful and hilarious stage–if she realizes you’re taking her picture and consciously smiles, this is the result:
As you may remember, when I was a wee one my smile used to resemble a grimace, so Bronagh is already two steps ahead of me.
I love this completely candid noble look that graced her face when she thought no one was looking.
And then there’s Ashling. She looks just like a little elf, and her explosion of curls just pierces my heart.
One of her most frequent expression is this dubious, semi-suspicious look.
Eyebrows slightly turned up, forhead delicately wrinkled.
You’ll go far in life with that ‘question everything, trust no one’ attitude, kid. I can already tell.
I asked Traci about her girls, and she confirmed what I already suspected: they are like dolls come to life. The’re in a loving, cuddly, trusting stage, which was evidenced by the fact that as soon as Traci sat down, Bronagh climbed onto her lap.
As soon as Ashling saw that Bronagh was getting snuggles, she clambered up as well.
What a precious sight–a mom and her girls.
It makes baby-making seem imperative. And time-sensitive. A matter of utmost urgency.
Must have small adorable kiddos asap.
And they must look exactly like Bronagh and Ashling.
Tomorrow (finally) a report on the cooking class itself–but I couldn’t proceed without first dwelling on these two little souls.