Monday, October 29, 2012
I’ve been terrible about writing letters to you; on paper anyway. I’ve written hundreds in my head if only you could just reach in and find the words…
There are so many little things to capture about you, the ones that make you so heart-searingly, delightfully you. Your smile – it is big and bright and full of teeth that your aunt has dubbed “piranha teeth”, spaced out with little points. Your smile lights up your face and makes the entire room brighter. No one can maintain a straight face when you turn on your smile and, luckily for us, you smile all the time.
Your blanket and bear – they are a unit, a dirty unit that you love beyond anything else in the world. I try to sneak them into the washer and dryer every once in a while but you maintain a vigilant and protective watch over them. So, when I do manage to sneak them in, I’m lucky if you don’t notice until they’re in the dryer. Then we just have one cycle to cry through instead of two. Also, your blanket has a second job. You love to stuff a piece of your blanket in your ear; it’s comforting and relaxing for you. When you’re sitting quietly, upset about something, being comforted, and even when you are asleep I’ll catch you carefully worrying blanket through your fingers until you have just the right amount which is then stuffed into your ear. Head is cocked then, to keep the blanket in place, and every bit of you sinks down into the last missing degrees of relaxation.
Your words – you talk constantly. I think your vocabulary is as good as the Princess’s was at your age you just use it 90% more often than she ever did. It just exploded out of you and it is so fun to understand what you are thinking about and what you want at the moment. (even if it’s a trip to Winco of all things!)
The other night we had to take you to the ER for tummy pain and a fever. There is nothing more pathetic than a little tiny person on a big, adult size gurney at the hospital. You were so, so brave. The entire time we were there you kept asking to “go home” but the only time you really cried was when Daddy left to take the Princess home. You had a variety of tests and they were scary and uncomfortable. But, though your chin trembled, you fought your fear as we talked about pictures of your tummy and got to see your heart beating (that heart that I first saw in my own ultrasound and cried in amazement over.)
Everyone, me included, was in awe of you that night. Except for your big sister, because she knows you, and the ways of the stoically brave, and that you’ve been watching her every movement from the very beginning. The Princess just climbed into the bed to give hugs and kisses and color with you, because sharing a room together in a variety of circumstances is what the two of you do. (which of course makes me start thinking about her leaving for school next year and separating the two of you and I’m a potential puddle of tears once again….)
Sweetpea, we love you beyond words, beyond time and reason, and any other method for measurement they come up with in the future. When you’re on my hip you hold my arm in a vice grip with your own. I can only disentangle you by force or when you decide you’re ready to disconnect. Someday soon I know you’ll choose to walk over being carried and the vice grip will change to a handclasp and then a handhold and then a happy wave as you run further and further in front of me. No matter what, though, you will always have the most unbreakable hold on my heart.
I love you,