Little Mama

This little lady has become quite the little mama lately. She's hasn't been super interested in baby dolls and mothering them until recently. And as you can see, she's willing to mother just about anything- trains, bow-shaped pillows and stuffed animals, too! She is always tucking them in, shutting the door to whatever room they are resting in and shushing the rest of us while they nap. She loves fiercely each one, but each object of affection only remains in favor for a day or two. From the tiny Christmas bear, to the yellow singing bear, from Abby Bunny to the sleep sheep. Loving passionately but without much loyalty.

This stage is just too much fun. There is so much I want to remember, scared I will forget the way she says things, the faces she makes, the way her body leans against me as we read, tired after a long day.

"Mama, I can't like that," she says when really she's trying to say she doesn't like it. But isn't that how we feel when we don't like something? We can't like that icky vegetable, or that mean kid, or that it is time for bed.

"Mama, you're a bootiful girl," she says from the backseat, melting my heart.

"I want to go to Chic-uh-lay with Mimi and Pepe and Scout and Harvey," she asks at lunch time. Oh, honey. Me, too.

"At nighttime we go to the airport and go on a airplace and see Nana and Grampa," she tells me almost daily.

When Mattias cries, she goes about her business saying, "I know, I know, Tias" just as mama does.

Randomly yesterday she looks at me and her dad and declares, "He's seven months," talking about her brother and shocking us, reminding us of just how much she hears and understands.

"What's wrong, mama?" she asks me countless times everyday. She's aware of my mood, the mutterings under my breath, the frustrations I feel when trying to get ready for the day or get out the door.


Everyday she has new words and phrases. Chris and I look at each other each night as we realize that we are having full-on conversations with this little lady.