The little angel is in love.  I noticed she had been cozying up to J. lately.  He doesn't seem to mind that she can't walk yet.  I think he likes younger women.

Anyway, it was solidified yesterday. First, when my beloved went to pick the little angel up from the Emerald City, she was hugging J.  Then, as I was carrying her around the kitchen, she caught site of her class photo on the refrigerator.  She pointed and gurgled loudly.  I carried her over there, and she lovingly fingered his image with her chubby little pointer.  "Uh-oh," she said.  (This is a sign of pleasure right now.)

I didn't know what to say.  What's next?  J. showing up in a tricked-out walker, luring my little angel away for a night of cigarettes and Purple Passion?  Will she get his name tattooed on her bicep?  A mother worries.

She told me about their latest conversation. She tells me everything.

Little Angel:  You know, I really like a man with long hair.

J:  I know the sign for "bear."

LA:  I think you're awfully cute in cordouroy.

J:  I know the sign for "bear."

LA:  I love you.