Last night, when I was getting you ready for your nightly shower, I stood you up on the bathroom counter and we looked at ourselves in the mirror, smiling. You’re in the midst of a cold, another souvenir from holidays with family, and I noticed that your nose was a little raw and crusty. You wrapped your left arm around my neck and pulled me tight, still smiling in the mirror. I had my hair pulled up into a messy bun, and you we’re stripped down to your buns. Looking at your nose in the mirror, I said, “I see some crusty.” Without missing a beat, you said, “No, mom. It’s beauty!”
That is how most of our moments go these days. You, a wondrous ball of energy, humor and perception. Me, a messy pile of love. We had a wonderful Christmas hosting Grandma Thom, Big Papa, Ainsley and Aunt Nan at our house—a first. Dad rented a trolley and surprised everyone with a light-seeing trip to Mission Hills, the Plaza and Crown Center. We stopped to pick up the Whites, who were thrilled! On Christmas Eve, You and Grandma bake homemade gingerbread men for Santa. The next morning, beyond any gift, you were most surprised and please by the fact that Santa took a bite out of the cookie you left him.
Most people are surprised by your memory and your level of comprehension. Grandma thinks that you don’t know that you’re a kid. She might be right. You’ve been reciting your prayer before meals for months and months now, but you also know Now I Lay Me and the Guardian Angel prayer. In September you were singing all of Take Me Out to the Ballgame (Harry Carey-style), and now you know verses of Twas the Night Before Christmas and can sing Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer, Jingle Bells, Deck the Halls and Rocking around the Christmas Tree (your fav).
Gram gave you the movie Frozen for Christmas, and we’ve watched it at least a dozen times in the last week. In fact, NBC broadcast a special live/Broadway presentation of Peter Pan (with Christopher Walken who was absolutely terrible! I mean, the WORST.) that Dad DVRd. You have watched that show at least 100 times and you love the dancing part with Tiger Lily and the natives. You try to do the whole bit—foot stomping, slapping the floor, clapping above your head. Makes me think you’d like some sort of dance class. When I was a kid, dancing was all I wanted to do, so I totally understand this toe-tapping, groove-to-the-beat, I-can’t-help it thing.
You’re still a very good eater. Last night, I made chili for dinner, a first for you, and you ate it all up. You had tacos at Aunt Lacie’s and Uncle Jordan’s and said it was “deee-licious!” You also finished all of my pancakes for breakfast at their house! At Big Papa’s birthday dinner you asked for broccoli, which surprised everyone, even me. Speaking of that dinner, you were part of the plan for soon-to-be-Uncle-Jared proposing to Aunt Manda Lou. I asked Aunt Manda to take you up in the elevator to see the snow outside, and when she returned with you, he was on one knee with the ring, proposing in front of all of us! So fun! P.S. You kind owe him for helping me put together your new baby doll bed.
We're dabbling with potty training. One day, it was naptime, and you got very quiet, which I took as, oh, she's asleep. You were asleep all right but not before you took off your socks, pants, diaper and half your shirt. Then you gave up and went to sleep. Sometimes you get ornery and joke with me. When I say, Soon it will be good-bye diapers, hello big-girl panties, you say, No, hello diapers, good-bye big girl panties, and smile.
Your hugs and squeezes are the best. You now hang on like a little monkey. Good thing, too, because you’re getting much heavier than when I held you this summer! One night when we were reading books, you spontaneously gave me a kiss, and you often say “ I wuv yzou, Mom” completely out of the blue. I'll never tire of that.
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