Oh, Daisy. My mind is already trying to wrap itself around the fact that in seven months she will be a big sister - a middle child - and not the baby anymore. It's got me feeling all nostalgic for this moment, even though it hasn't passed us yet.
Every day I think of something new I want to remember about Daisy right now.
This girl is all about pretend. She opens her little picnic basket, pulls out her cup (proudly declaring, "Purple cup!"), walks over to her toy fridge, pretends to fill up the cup in the filtered water dispenser (waiting an appropriate amount of time for the cup to fill), and then feeds her baby doll some water.
Caleb took forever to start playing pretend, but Daisy is so there. I was making dinner tonight when I saw that she had spread out this whole picnic for herself. (That's a sticker from a tomato we had for dinner on her knee.)
When I put Daisy to bed, she always reaches up for my hair. It's a new thing, this hair-stroking, and I love it. She doesn't pull; she tenderly, gently strokes my hair. Sometimes she grabs a handful of it and tickles her face.
Another new thing is Christmas carols. "Frosty the Snowman" is her favorite, and she tries to sing it over and over. She only knows two parts: "Frosty the snowman..." and "Thumpety-thump-thump, thumpety-thump-thump, look at Frosty go..." But she sings them over and over, and giggles with joy when I sing it to her.
She's a snuggle bug, just like her mommy. My mom has said that when I was little, she knew exactly how many hugs I needed each day. Daisy's favorite thing is to stand, arms raised, and shout, "Holdu!"
If I'm holding her and she doesn't want to be put down, she clings to me with all of her bony little might. She wraps those arms around my neck, squeezes her legs around my ribs, and presses her whole body into me. She won't let go.
And though she be but little, she is fierce.
-Wm. Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
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