Our ‘Lil Flapper

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As we wandered through the Aquarium, she lead the way. There was no way we were going to lose sight of the energetic little girl yelling, “Mama! It’s a fish! And another one, Daddy! Did you see that, brother?”.

No, it wasn’t the yelling or the pushing her nose up to the glass that were making her stick out. Any other kid her age or a few years older than her would be doing the same thing. It was the bright green Easter bonnet that *has* to go everywhere with her to protect her fair skin from the sun. And it *has* to be turned down so that it shields her eyes and hides all of her curls.

But as we followed her, Mr. Burgher and I both had the same thought. He turned to me and asked, “Doesn’t she look like one of those fifties lounge dancers?” My dear husband, as I followed our chicken-biscuit through the halls, I was all about humming some jazz in my head, so I reply with, “You mean a flapper, right? Not some trashy something or other.” A nod let me know we were on the same page. With a skirt bouncing, pale skin, and a hat hiding her eyes oh so slightly, leaving people to wonder what exactly was on her mind, there she was, Our ‘Lil Flapper.

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