What is it about a child that makes you sit and smile?

Is it her fathers’ big blue eyes: that stare straight back at you and seem to say everything on their mind,

Is it her mothers’ lips: that encloses all the mysteries that are yet to be put to play?

Is it her fathers’ hands: strong and persistent,

Is it her mothers’ skin: soft and flawless, with a hint of peaches and cream,

Is it her fathers’ brow: full of concern and curiosity that ask questions without words?

Or her mothers’ hair: blonde and flowing that glows in the suns rays, curls riddled in pink ribbons and bows.

Is it her laugh that is her own? So innocent, yet full of cheek.

Maybe it is her dresses that are forever covered in dirt.

Or the look of regret, when she knows that something is wrong.

Maybe when she cries for hours and hours, because teddies in the wash.

 Or is it the look of thanks and praise when you buy her, her very first dog.

Maybe it’s the glee in her face when she knows that Santa has been.

Or when she plays teacher, and makes you write the two times tables.

 Maybe when she’s reading her first book, not knowing it is upside down.

Or maybe its knowing, that no matter what, she will always be your little girl, with the big blue eyes, little blonde curls and the world at her doorstep.