When you were a tiny baby, you would sometimes get this look on your face that reminded me of an old lady. I called you Mabel whenever you pursed your lips and looked at me disapprovingly. You would clasp your hands and sigh in your old lady kind of way.
Mabel still makes an appearance now and then. Like yesterday when you donned a hat and sat on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped and lips pursed, peeking under the brim of the hat to watch Winnie The Pooh. You looked so, so Mabel.
I’m pretty sure you’ve been here before.
I love you. Even if you were an old lady in a past life.