You had a blast with your grandmother this past weekend. She did what grandmothers are known for doing, hugging and kissing you a lot and helping to send all the rules out the windows.
From the second she arrived, you were by her side.
And while she was here three nights and two days -- her first visit on her own since you were just a week old -- you learned all that you needed to know about her, including that Grammie the name would not suit. GiGi is better. So, GiGi it is. We follow you around here, as you know.
She will listen to you and watch you do the silliest things. She'll draw what you want. She'll make you chocolate cake and soft cookies. She'll smile all day long.
And when it was time to go, you knew it was time to go. You're impressive with that and I wish I were as resilient at good-byes as you are.
You talk about her now as if she's still here, as if she's just a few blocks down the street -- not 700 miles.
You tell your stories perfectly: "GiGi. Georgie. Drive. Car. Nap."
"More," you say and sign with your little fingers.
Someday, girls. Some day.
Thank you for visiting today.
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