“Hi, God. You like my hair?”

Piggy-backing on Erin’s recent post — I just took the florist up to the Bridal Room to deliver some flowers and a pretty little 4-year old girl, with total innocence, said: “Hi God — you like my hair?”

[I was in my riassa (long black robe) — and her hair was spectacular.]

I said, “Why, I’m honoured but I’m not …”

“And over there’s my dress,” she interrupted, pointing.

Another equally pretty young lady, this one 6, said: “My Dad’s bringing my dress … but it’s like hers. How do you like my hair?”

And so it went for a 5 minute visit with two flower girls and their mom.

As I was leaving, making my way down the hallway, I said, “Okay … see you all downstairs.”

“Okay. Bye God!” they yelled in unison.

(Oh alright! I’ll correct them at the wedding, I promise.)

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