that microphone was the best $1 Aunt Heidi ever spent!

She is he and me rolled into a beautiful flower of mischief and precocious magic.  When she dances the kitchen linoleum might as well be a ballroom floor and her torn overalls might as well be a princess dress as she twirls with silly grace and giggles.  She holds the pink sparkly Dollorama microphone against her lips and paces from living room to entryway and back again.  "Sfinkol, sfinkol wittol tawr, uptabuva wurd so hi," or "Tum on Bawrbee, wets dough pawtee - o, o, ooo, yeah!"  And never has Twinkle Twinkle shone so bright or Aqua performed Barbie Girl with more passion.  And when she squeezes my neck and pats my hair and says, "you be my gurl!" I am a puddle and she owns me.  "I not beebee, I wittol gurl."

"How much do you love me, Noa?"
"I yuv you two minutes, mummy."  Hug.  Kiss.  "You be my gurl.  Evfur an evfur."

As if I could argue with that.