I didn't realize how aptly named these posts would be when I started them. The letters take so much effort that it ends up being weeks before I can get around to posting some of the pictures I didn't use.
Just one of the many things I'll have to get used to being my fault in a few years, I suppose.
You have been carrying around things that are way too big for you.
This particular morning, you actually heaved the laundry basked onto
the bed. Then you piled all the pillows inside and motioned for help
climbing in. It looked so comfy. I wanted one my size.
For the most part, you eat like a champ. But this one made me want
to gag. You decided to put your broccoli and grapes into your
banana yogurt container and mix it up into one foul concoction.
I tried not to dry heave while you nodded your approval between bites.
After hopefully the last of my 22 eye appointments, you discovered the
free sample pack of contact solution the receptionist gave me. I was
putting things away in the bathroom and heard you gabbing in the other
room. When I looked in, you were using it as a bottle for your baby.
(And taking pretend sips yourself.) I found it so endearing that I rushed
out and bought you some actual toy baby bottles that afternoon.
But I couldn't get over how clever it was that you made that connection.
On an unseasonably warm day last month, we stopped at Grandma's house for lunch and ended up spending most of the day outside. Toby usually beelines for the shed in the far corner of the yard to sniff out the bunnies who live underneath, and when Dad went to retrieve him, one of Grandma's neighbor's asked for some help. The wind the night before had blown the lattice off her porch.
You, me, Grandma and Dad snuck out of the gate before the dogs could flee, but just barely. You played while Dad reattached the lattice.
But when we tried to get back into Grandma's yard, I had a hard time operating the gate because the ground was so wet. It kept getting stuck in the grass, which allowed Toby and Sparky ample time to make a break for it as Dad shot invisible daggers at my skull because he knew he was going to have to be the one to corral them.
Toby listened right away -- probably because he wanted to sleep inside on 800-thread count sheets like usual. Sparky, however, would've screamed "FREEEEEEEDOMMMMMMM!!!" if he could've. He took off in a shot, pausing momentarily to sniff random bushes, mailboxes and tree stumps.
And Sparky is fast. Dad chased him about three miles while I got in Grandma's car and drove around the neighborhood listening for obscenities.
But Sparky just made a big loop and ran right back to Grandma's house, Dad sweating and panting behind him. Then I pulled in, just in time for more invisible daggers as Dad relayed how Sparky even pooped without stopping, just so he wouldn't get caught.
As punishment, Grandma put him on a leash for awhile while the rest of us continued to use the yard, and Toby paraded his freedom by taunting him.
And squealed some more.
You felt so sorry for Sparky that you gave up the big pile of pebbles you were playing in, marched up the path to where Sparky was whining and patted him on his head. Then you sat next to him, draped your little arm around his back and quietly kept him company.
There are a lot of amazing qualities you possess, little girl, but compassion is one of your strongest.
I imagine it will serve you -- and others -- well.