
In my eyes, Flea is beautiful. She has eyes that sparkle when she finds something funny, which is roughly every ten seconds. She has hair that's a thousand different shades of blonde, with a fringe bleached by days in the sun. She's getting taller and stronger every day, but still retains some of that squishy quality that little kids have. "You're gorgeous," I tell her, a dozen times a day. "I know," she replies. Her confidence in her own attractiveness is something I can only marvel … [Read more...]





















