I Look Like Daddy

I'm kind of relishing the last few months of being able to pick out Elizabeth's clothes without any resistance or input from her inner style sense. This morning, after a battle with Linda about why she couldn't wear the flower dress she wore on Sunday because it was not yet washed, nor the "light pink shorts to match this shirt" which do not exist, I dressed Elizabeth in some jean shorts and a pretty light blue t-shirt. She stood up on the changing table and grinned ear to ear as she ran her hands down her shirt over her chest and tummy. "I look ah Daddy", she squeaked through her smile. "You look like Daddy because you have on a blue shirt?" I asked. "Yeeahh! And belly!" she exclaimed with pride. "I love your little belly and Daddy's too", I replied, planting a kiss right on her bellybutton.