The other day, Louise asked how your face looked when we met. In attempting to translate that, I thought she was asking about how you looked when you were younger. (background: we have been looking at a lot of pictures lately, and the girls have been asking questions about the way people's looks change over time.)
I told her you were very handsome (of course). But then she rephrased her question for me... "No, Mommy. How did Daddy's face look when he saw how beautiful you were."
This is romance as told by a five year old. She imagined you, dropped jaw, gazing in awe at my beauty. She's clearly been reading too many romance novels. I'm quite fond of this version though.
Later, I imagined this conversation if you had been there. I think you would have demonstrated your "beauty awe" face, and it would have been similar to your "stinky trash" face. I would have "hmph"-ed, and you would have grinned. Louise would have scolded you too. But then you would have corrected yourself.
I told her what you always told me... that it was my smile that you noticed first. I think I'm going to adopt her version for future tellings though!
I love you, babe.