The giant's royal breakfast

I love my Jordan.  My ever-busy, bright-eyed, "brown chocolate milk" lovin', imaginative, smart as a whip, curious, creative, tomboy meets princess, nearly five year old middle child.  She is my unending source of "Jordanisms", those little quirky statements that only Jordan can come up with that I'm always posting on Facebook and telling friends and family about.  There was even a lady that my Dad worked with (before she recently retired) that was always coming up to him asking for the latest "Jordan story".  Just to give an example, I was fixing her hair for church.  She was doing her normal thing on the little step stool in front of me, playing with hairpins and rollers, making them "talk" like people, having to be constantly reminded to be still.  Then she got that bright expression on her little petite face, eyes as big as tea saucers, and exclaimed as the wonderful thought entered her mind, "Hey!  What if a GIANT came and got me... and ATE me... then I would be his royal breakfast!"  I seriously don't know where she comes up with this stuff, it utterly amazes me.  I've known this little person for nearly five years now, and there's not a boring bone in her body.  She faces each new day with the happiness of just being alive... studying everything around her that she finds interesting... and doing her little share of making the world a better place.  How I long to be like her.