Kleenex Alert!

Okay, maybe YOU don't need kleenex for this one, but I needed some. As a matter of fact, I think I need a therapy appointment for my gooey heart and melty memories that make me weepy. Isabelle was once a second grader. She was really cute. It was Christmas one time. We draw names at Christmas. Every kid (even the big ones) hope that my Dad gets their name. He likes lists. He buys the whole list. He's pretty much like having Santa in your family. This one year, when Isabelle was second grade cute, my dad had her name. She opened her gift, that turned out to be a note. That led to another note. She was obvisouly planning on something grand, because it looks like she is dressed for the Oscars. Anyway, this note led to yet another note. It was very exciting as all the little cousins chased her all over the house listening to her read aloud, telling them where this epic adventure was taking them next.

It eventually led to the porch.

Outside.

Where there was a brand new bike waiting for her.

She saw the bike, and then quickly looked at Mom to share an over the top moment of excitement that only you can share with your mom.

Because you mom knows you THAT well.

And it still makes your mom cry every time she sees the picture of the shared look of sheer joy.

Then she cries harder as she sees those little hands wrapped around Grandpa's neck thanking him for the most fantastic gift a girl could ever get.

Thanks Dad. It was a gift that that I won't ever forget!