Amanda Rose Fisher. She is twenty years old. She has been twenty years old since she was ten. She gets that, and her good looks, thank God, from her Momma. Make no mistake about it when she looks at you with those dark eyes it is all Fisher. I gave her a bath once when she was a baby and she looked at me and i jumped back, thinking that it was my Father looking at me---scary, and it will make a Christian out of you in a hurry.
Amanda. She got that name from my Grandmother. I worshiped my Grandmother. I am sure my Grandmother would have worshipped Amanda, and my Dad would have met his match, which never happened in the 54 years he was around. Amanda would have conquered him in seconds. She certainly took over from the minute she arrived, wrapping her little hand around my pinkie finger when they were wiping the baby stuff off her, squawling to beat all hell. that was it for me. I never had a chance.
I should have known there was going to be trouble when she was painting her own nails at 2 years old (I have the picture to prove it)--Vanity, thy name is Booger.
Independent, Hardheaded, Intelligent ,and Beautiful.
And a Momma herself--to the Pottamus B. Rex, almost three. She loves that boy and he loves her. What a pair they make, and are joined at the heart and hip on most days. Unless I can bribe him with ice cream. One day soon shes gonna move away and take the Pottamus with her, and I will be placed on suicide watch. My relatives and friends are already starting to talk about it.
Love,
Daddy
1 comment:
George, what a wonderful post. It brought a tear to my eye. Shane Steiner
Post a Comment