Every Little Things She Does

Having a girl remains an amazing mystery to me. Maybe every parent thinks so, but I'm in wonder of this child and wonder if I was ever like her. She's on FIRE with joy at life. She's constantly playing. She's willful. She's creative.

She's kind of hilarious.

She's also making life plans. She's begun telling me about how, when she has a baby, she's going to need a baby bed in her room. Of course I told her that will be fine we'll get one. She tells me I can babysit when she has to go to work. She's going to marry Mario, she thinks. Yes, Mario. That Mario. Not Andretti. The one fighting Donkey Kong.

She loves her brothers with wild abandon. She fights with her brothers with wild abandon. The fighting part drives me crazy and I struggle to let them work things out in healthy ways. I don't fight in healthy ways so mentally I can't handle seeing other people do it. Fighting to me always equals a lack of love, but I see so much love demonstrated between my children that I hold my tongue the best I can.

Sometimes I fail.

She's begun telling jokes. My brother and oldest son are joke impaired. It must be carried on the Y chromosome because my five year old tells surrealist jokes. "Why did the chicken cross the road?" "BOAT!" (I keep telling her FISH is a better answer, but who am I to tell her HOW to do surrealism?)

Right now she's sleeping in her bed and it's 12 minutes before I get this whole circus up for the day because we have an outing to go to today. I'm drinking my black coffee and looking forward to all those little faces.

I can't wait to see what she does today.
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