You Know You’re a Mom of Boys When: Girls? Who Needs ‘Em?!

I was at Chandler’s baseball game and I saw this vision from heaven.

It was a little girl. About eight years old.

She was running and jumping, her shiny brown hair swinging in the wind.

She looked just like Chase. The sparkling eyes. The perfect freckled face. The dimples. Oh my heavens the dimples.

The ever adorable thing we call Chase.

I sat there and thought what a gorgeous little girl we could make.  Did we mess up? Should we have tried again for a girl?! What have I done?!

And then she turned to the other little girl she was playing with and said,

“I am SO over you.”

And then she rolled her eyes.

And huffed loudly.

And swung that hair like it was weapon as she walked away.

I looked at Chandler, spitting in the outfield.

I looked at Chase and Charlie, punching each other in the face on the playground.

And all those thoughts went away.

The end.

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