![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg037vojYxp6uPOdS3mvwMuFjitBPIOG98RrMJ0bdHyUYkijd-8dIMHi7PwpD1SAebqLwaDxoyEcKMxz8pUmsSiUgq08MPZbqdpxhnQG5a9oQ_pbPLchBIWghVJZWzwtH1WY7f-9KoVnew/s200/100_3351.jpg)
As we were getting Henry's valentines ready for his school party last night, he was writing his name on the cards and I was taping heart shaped peppermint patties to the reverse side. Mike was teaching, and Anne was on the floor at my feet, screaming. Sigh. I had tried to feed her dinner (both pureed peas and a nursing offer were refused) but she was just terribly overtired.
Suddenly, Henry asks:
"Mommy, how do you spell 'Anne'? I keep forgetting."
"A-N-N-E Sweetie."
"Ok."
Suddenly, across the kitchen table comes a little Spider Man valentine, that reads "To Anne, From Henry." It was so precious I could hardly stand it.
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