|(I love thee enough to post a photo with bedhead and puffy sleep eyes)|
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee more than getting rid of Dada's old clothes
More than drinking from a (lead- free) hose
More than nunus*, toast, burritos, and cheese
I love thee more than laughing so hard I have to pee(s)
More than sewing in a straight line without tension issues
Even more than a fruitful nose blow into a handful of tissues
I love thee more than Atticus, George, and Lenny from my books
I love thee more than a room full of award-winning pastry cooks
More than a bubble bath and bed by eight
I love thee more than autumn here in the Grand Canyon state
More than the smell of orange blossoms in my hometown
More than the red curly hairs abundant on your crown
I shall but love thee sleeping, sitting, or jumping up and down.
*nunus = how my son says noodles, how we, consequently, say noodles, and how I imagine we shall forevermore say noodles