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| Baby’s first ponytail. Baby’s second colander. |
This girl. This teensy tinsy person who bodily flings herself over the side of the couch. (Again and again and again…) And then the other side of the couch. And then the back. All the while, she points between herself and the couch, shaking her finger and admonishing herself “Nonono.”
And the one who climbs the radiator to push herself onto the windowsill with her elbows- pausing like a deer in headlights when she thinks I’m approaching- sticking her chubby diapered bottom up into the air like it’s the most natural position in the world, like no, this is not what a person looks like who is about to climb a radiator and a windowsill.
The smallish person who eats spicy tamales verdes with both fists. And eggplant. And pasta and beef and veggies dipped in blue cheese dressing…but who will angrily sign noTHANKyou when someone makes the mistake of offering her a lemon square. Oh, she’ll eat it. And then spit it out into her hand and present it to you, seeming to say “You’re the jerk who tried to poison me, you clean it up.”
The excitable little lady who hears her favorite song on the stereo- or, let’s be honest, Nora’s favorite song and the one Zuzu’s been convinced by her sister is the one they really should be listening to- and reaches her arms up, up to be lifted and spun and snuggled. Until the next song. The one where she needs to be firmly on the ground so she can stomp her foot like a miniature caller at a hoedown.
The snuggly not-quite baby who requires her monkey and his backup for all quiet times, passing the furry hands back and forth to herself, trying to smell which is the “right” one for naptime and which one gets the distinct honor of sleeping under the small of her back.
The pint-sized Picasso who would happily spend an hour sorting Play-Doh colors into their respective cans- and she does not need any help from anyone. Unless you want to roll some Play-Doh balls for sorting. Or open this lid. Or that one. Or the other one. Could you pick that speck up from the ground for me?
And the one who is pretty sure her sister hung the stars and moon and skies. Until her Dad comes home and flies her upside down. Or unless someone is going for a walk or making a snack. (Then they’re her favorite.)
I just love her a crazy amount. Even on days when she doesn’t nap and hasn’t quite adjusted to the time change and is instead walking around like she just got off a red-eye from Japan.
I love her because she’s got A Plan. And a super-cute blonde with A Plan? Yeah, you should always keep one of those close by.
I keep mine on the windowsill.
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| Trust me. |
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