To the moon
This morning, Maren and I went in to Greta’s room together when we heard her wake up. We sang happy birthday to her and filled her room with chatter, as we do most mornings. As a tactic to get Maren to change out of the Christmas dress she had chosen to wear today, I asked her if she would like to match clothes with Greta. While Maren and I were discussing wardrobe and weather appropriateness, Greta went back to the little space between her crib and the wall. She hid back there for twenty seconds, peeking through the bars and watching us. Then, she stepped to the side and stuck her head around the corner, screamed, and laughed hysterically. I noticed and laughed, and said, “Peekaboo Greta!” She retreated back to her hiding spot, waited, and then did it again. Maren, Greta, and I all found this to be a spectacular game to start the day today. My baby is not a baby, she is a toddler.
She laughs easily and often. No one, though, can get her going like Maren can.
She sleeps from 6:30 pm to 7:30 am. (I am so lucky.)
She loves baths and water in general. She loves baby dolls. Her greatest loves are her blankie and paci.
She barely resembles her baby picture; she was so fat then, and now she is lean except for her big round belly.
She runs and walks with authority, purpose, and confidence.
She knows her name.
She babble-talks constantly. Sometimes it is a quiet talk as if she is telling a story. Sometimes she yells while pointing and stomping as if she is issuing directives. If you ask her questions it sounds like she is making appropriate (though unintelligible) responses.
She snuggles. She cuddles in and rests her head on my shoulder. I melt.
She shrieks and has a tantrum if I don’t read her a book when she brings it to me.
She is happiest when there is a crowd to watch. I joke that she should have been a septuplet. She hates being left alone and prefers to be held.
She spontaneously dances enthusiastically whenever she hears music of any type.
I love her to the moon and back.