This is a rare, five generation photo of Grace and her ancestors. (Are they still called ancestor's if they aren't dead?) We are so blessed to have such beautiful mothers. (And, four out of five of us share the name Irene.) It started with Opal Irene. We call her Poppop. She's the angel all in white. Sitting to her left (our right) is her daughter Billie Jo. Then, my beautiful mother, Karen Irene. Then me, Amy Irene, and of course, my little Grace Irene.When I was a young girl, my Dad gave me a butterfly framed in a shadow box with the words, "A daughter is a little girl who grows up to become a wonderful friend." That shadow box now hangs in Grace's room.
Okay, here are Grace's cousins. From left to right we have Boston, Grace, Paige, Benjamin, and Jacob.
Here is Grace with her uncle, Matthew. He is reading her Dr. Seuss's "There's a Wocket in My Pocket." Grace and Matthew have the same birthday, August 28. I think she inherited his long eyelashes.
We woke up early one morning and went on a hike. Boy, was I out of shape.
My brother, Matthew, has always had a talent for song and rhyme. He can whip up a goofy little something about anything. When my little sister, Emma was a baby, Matt would make her legs go like she was riding a bicycle and say, "Garbage man, garbage man, I have to get more garbage," over and over again. It sounds ridiculous, but Emma loved it. During the reunion, we had the pleasure of hearing some new jingles. When we were in the pool it was, "Whirlpool, whirlpool, sing me a song. Whirlpool, whirlpool, all day long." When Baby Paige was upset it was "Baby Paige. Little mookie mage. I love you like a chooky, chooky chage." I can’t believe I still remember the tune.
No comments:
Post a Comment