Earlier in January, I shared a picture that a boy gave to Charlotte. Gave to her. As in a present. To me, mom radar went through the ROOF. I am not good with this stuff and I am envisioning that she has crushes and dates and boys when she is a safe age. Maybe like 26.
But to me…this is how it starts. Today, a cute little picture…tomorrow, running off to Vegas in a whirlwind marriage. Let us not forget she is EIGHT.
8.
8.
8.
The internet assured me this was normal and cute and lovely.
But by May, just a mere five months later, little William stepped up his swag.
He called my house.
You can read that little tidbit (and my head explode) here.
Fast forward through the summer. I am standing in Charlotte’s room two nights ago to kiss her goodnight and I pick up a folded letter on her dresser. I figured it was a cute drawing.
Imagine my surprise when I open it up and it’s this:
Let me state the obvious first.
- William has excellent penmanship.
- William is an eloquent writer too.
- William would perhaps make a fantastic tutor for my left handed daughter.
But he has GOT to go.
