My grandaughter is a dinosaur. No. Really.

You may remember from a little while back that I wrote a piece about the wearing of ‘onesies’ in our family. My FAB hubby has a dragon (complete with tiny wings and long pointy red tail), my son has a Count Dracula, I have a cow like my daughter who has been breastfeeding since almost the turn of the century (hence the reference!). My two older grandchildren have a monkey and a shark (or a wolf – I can’t remember which it is! Hey… I’m old and I forget things). We’re all delighted with our garments.

When the family were leaving after their stay with us we decided that as a parting gift, the two younger children also needed to have their own ‘onesie’. Scarlett, who is fifteen months and spends a fair amount of her life in a onesie anyway, was appreciative of hers – a smaller version of the wolfie-onesie that her older sister has.

Harrie was asleep in the car, ready for the journey south when her onesie was delivered. When they arrived home several hours later and Harrie was presented with her dinosaur garment, she was simply delighted! She squeaked. She squealed. She simply BEAMED from ear to ear, jumped up and down and demanded to be allowed to put it on straight away.

They skyped us  immediately and we were very gratified to see how much pleasure this simple present had given to our young granddaughter. She just adored it, clearly. Excited babbled expressions of gratitude poured through the ether and made us all feel at least a small fraction of her joy. Yay! We done good!

That was fifteen days ago.

There's a dinosaur eating cookie dough!
There’s a dinosaur eating cookie dough!

Today, my daughter posted this picture of Harrie stealing cookie dough in their kitchen.

She is, you will notice, wearing the honoured dinosaur onesie. As well as a fair bit of cookie dough.

I asked her mother if she lives in that onesie. The reply came as follows:

Yes. Literally every day (except last Friday) since you gave it to her. Last Friday I forgot to take it from the washer into the dryer before she woke up and she nearly cried saying “mummy, is my dinosaur onesie died?”

Harrie’s purpose in life is to give good cheer to all who come in contact with her. She will go a very long way, I suspect. I hope she brings you as much cheer as she did to me when I read this!

Thanks for reading!


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