You Are Our Girl

Today I was cleaning the kitchen and I looked over at your dad as he intently watched you play. Pride beamed on his face. He doesn't get to watch you independently play very often. You would rather directly interact with him when he is home. Restle. Climb. Walk the dogs. Snack. Draw. Cuddle in front of a movie. 

But today, he stood in the hallway, lovingly looking into your room. I asked what you were doing. He said you were tenderly cradling each stuffed animal in your arms while speakingly sweetly to their faces. Then you put them in your bed and wrapped them up all cozy in a blanket. Then you gingerly kissed each one. All the while continuing to softly talk to them. Then you turned on your sound machine so they could have a nice sleep.

Your father smiled at you. He admired your tender care. This side of you he doesn't get to see too often. Just like back when you first started to walk. During the day we would practice many times. I would watch you fall. Try again. Become more sturdy. But as soon as dad got home you wanted to be in his strong, loving arms. You had no reason to walk because you most certainty wanted daddy to pick you up. 

Fortunately, when you delay presenting a new talent for dad, that means that I get the joy of the experience more than once. I can tell him about something that you have done. But it isn't the same as seeing it for himself. And when he does, I love to see the big smile on his face.

Which happens so much. You awe us every day. With the intricate things you notice. The abundance of words you come up with. The selection of events you remember. And the inspiring compassion that you express. You are so loving and so caring. 

The other day we were in the grocery store and you saw another toddler. You were curious about the other girl's name and so I told you that you could go ask. This is a question that is very often included in our day. From people we pass to the characters in our books to the faces on television.

Currently we have been watching some Olympics on television. You get excited when each sport starts. "They're skiing!!" And then you ask me the name of the competitors. Sometimes I have to reply that I don't know. Sometimes I tell you to wait and I'll let you know when the name is posted. It makes me more aware of who each person is. It makes me think of the importance of recognizing everyone.

I try to remember all the characters in your books. Good thing that one about the dog-walker was a library book. So many names to remember. 

You have a genuine interest in people. When we were skating at the arena a little girl fell and we had to go over to see if she was okay. I've heard those words leave your mouth numerous times. "Are you okay?" And you don't just throw it out there. You want a response. You want to know we are okay. 

And, of course, we are. We have a beautiful, intelligent, sweet daughter to love. We get to watch you learn and grow every day. You are our pride and joy. 

You are our girl.