Friday, January 24, 2014

A Letter to My Daughter.

Dear Daughter,

I love you.  I love the person you are becoming.  I love to watch your sense of humor develop.  I REALLY love that your sense of humor is a strange meld of mine and your mother's sense of humor.  But, let me be honest, I see my own sense of humor most.  It's in the way you steal my glasses in the morning and try to wear them.  Then, when I try to take them back, you rub your fingers all over the lenses so they'll be smudged.  Then you belly laugh.

You were so small when we got you.  You loved your mommy so much.  You hardly spared a look for me, apart from acknowledging me as someone who was kept around my your all-important mommy.  Without me, you didn't figure having her would be possible, so you suffered through my company and, when necessary, my attentions.

Now, we can have entire conversations with you.  We can discuss whether or not we are going to Gymkids, the Post Office, or shopping.  We've been doing that for some time now.  Still, I never hesitate to ask, and you go to great lengths to convince me of our real destination.  I continue to get the word "leotard" wrong and ask you where you "Leah" is, and then your "Leah's Card."  Then "Leah's Cart."  I never tire, but neither do you tire of correcting me.  I think you enjoy it.

In the morning when we are all getting dressed for our day, you are sometimes helpful.  Other times not so much.  On several occasions I have asked you to assist me by grabbing my shoes.  You have often obliged.  It's when you choose to walk over and pick up the shoe in question, then look at me, place it on the ground and then put your foot in it and run away that lets me know you have my sense of humor!

I love the way you see things.  You decide to wear leopard spotted clothing, even though it drives me nuts.  You know that using chap stick on your cheeks is something that really enhances your beauty.  It also makes you smell like root beer.  You know that it is necessary for me to rub your armpits with my deodorant, even though, I usually put the cap on first.

The other night, I held you up so you could brace yourself on the walls and hold yourself four feet above the ground.  You FREAKED OUT.  Even though I was trying to assure you I would not let you go.  The next morning you asked me specifically to do it again.  Your mother thought we were crazy.

It makes me laugh every time you look at the smoke in the room when we are cooking and say we made the room blurry.  You say the same for fog.

There are so many things about you that are awesome, well, I could go on for hours, and , perhaps I will, but for now, I love you!!