Let’s face it: this is a great age. This is the age when you start to think, wow, kids are so wonderful, let’s have five more—which explains why most kids are spaced two years apart. She eats on her own, obeys commands, poops fewer times a day, goes to sleep quickly, and spends the rest of her time waddling around looking cute.
She falls flat on her face every five steps and doesn’t get phased: she just puts her hands on the ground, pushes her bum straight up in the air, and stands up again. I can tell her to go give someone a hug, or to put something back, and she’ll do it. She even dances on command, which is hilarious. Her hair can go in two pigtails, which with her bangs makes her look just like the little girl in “Monsters, Inc.” After she brings me a book she turns around and backs up to sit herself in my lap. When I wash the dishes she comes to tug on my pant leg.
I am fully aware that one morning she will wake up and start throwing tantrums when I don’t give her that extra cheerio and thirteen years later will not want to be seen walking with me in the mall. So I’m just trying to remember everything and be present to enjoy it as much as I can.
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