Hannah appeared in the kitchen as I was washing up some pans. She grinned and spread her arms wide in "ta-da!" fashion. I looked to see that she was arrayed in dress-up clothes with hair-ties as bracelets and rings, and with multiple superfluous hair clippies adorning her hair. "I'm all ready to get married!" she announced. I laughed and gave her a wink, "Some day you may have a real wedding."
"Who will I marry, Mama?" she asked. "Hannah," I answered, "you can marry anyone you want to as long as he loves God with all his heart." "Well..." Hannah replied, "I think he needs to speak the same language as me 'cause he won't understand what I'm saying." "OK, that is another consideration," I admitted.
Hannah wrote her name on a post-it note and stuck it to her tummy. "There," she said with a satisfied nod, "Now he'll know my name when I meet him." (As long as he reads English that is.)
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