|right before she makes a wish|
and she knows to keep gates and doors closed so her brother doesn't "get lost forever." She likes Dutch Babies for breakfast, and playing babies. And wow, she really is a great mother to all of those little plastic dollies. They listen to her and she puts them down for naps, and she rocks them and sings to them and teaches them life lessons.
|oh my little bald baby|
When she grows up she wants to be a Cut You Open Surgeon or a Baby Doctor (obstetrics, not pediatrics), or a dog walker. She is willing to go to college somewhere far away, but has every intention of living with us for the rest of her life.
|lined up to sing at school|
|with her cousins Easter Sunday|
Very little gets in her way. She's not afraid of dirt, or the dark, or touching dead lizards. She can keep up with Tahoe boys, and she hikes in princess dresses. She gets emotional, hysterical, and when she can't find her way out of a tantrum she begs to be held, my arms somehow helping her put herself back together.
She loves to sing, and dance and run and only rarely does she blame her brother for incidents or accidents his disabilities could not possibly permit him to accomplish. She is sweet with her brother, but not condescending. Her praise for him, when he does something new or wonderful, is a genuine cheering-on. She almost always saves half her cookie to take home to him. She's sympathetic to his disabilities, but has no problem being upset with him for walking through her play area knocking things over.
She is fiercely independent with her need to do it all by herself constantly in conflict with my need to be on time. And though she sheds me at the gate of most activities, she is still the loviest, coziest hand-holding, creep-in-to-my-bed-at-dawn-to-cuddle, little girl.
|her perfect little hand holding mine|
on the afternoon she was born