what that photo doesn’t show is that an hour previous–at 6 am–you’d woken up with wet panties. (for posterity: most nights, you keep your panties bone dry.) you demanded new panties, new jammies, and new sheets with the confidence of a foreman. and the moment you were sure that all of your demands would be met in a timely manner, you farted loudly and yelled to the sleeping house, EXCUSE ME!!! when i shushed you, you said, “what? i said excuse me.”
such is our life every day with you. you are equal parts little girl who doesn’t always make it to the toilet, bossypants with detailed instructions, and comedian. your aunt shannon sent your moms a journal called “my quotable kid”, and we are already filling that thing up with gems. because your budding vocabulary and lack of inner monologue make for comic gold. like the time when you confused cumin with human? you were concerned that i liked to season quinoa with humans. we explained to you that such practices are taboo.
you are still obsessed with thomas. with your mama’s help, you’ve become quite the collector of the die-cast trains. you often line them all up–not unlike rapper 50cent and his fleet of escalades in an episode of cribs, circa 2003 (all pop culture references likely to be forgotten by the time you can read this)–you survey your possessions. and then you list the ones you do not have: do i have henry (pronounced “hangry”)? no. do i have ferdinand? no. do i have edward? YES!
you are equally obsessed with the thomas and friends shows–not the sedate, live-action model episodes starring george carlin, ringo starr, or alec baldwin, though; that would be too merciful on your dear mothers. instead, you LOVE the crappy ass cgi ones, because, and i quote: “look! their mouths move!” somehow, thomas’ ability to move his own mouth when he speaks makes me find him all the more insufferable. but i love you, and you love thomas. so i keep it to myself until you’re out of the room, at which point i make fun of his stupidity, narcissism, and impetuousness with your mama. and then we make dirty jokes about busting buffers and bubbling boilers.
for the record, you also love the original collection of stories (in which some engine is always “paid out” for being daft or being too big for their proverbial britches). we read them every.single.night.
you love iphones. you have them completely figured out. you’re pretty great at angry birds, and your mama has accumulated a number of thomas games for you. but your favorite thing to do on an iphone? watch kitty videos on youtube. “mommy, may i PLEASE watch kitties on your phone?” you often ask the minute i get home from work, before you even say hello to me. and you don’t simply want to watch adorable or funny videos; you want to watch them with us. you love to see our reactions. you love to laugh with us. this is your current favorite.
oh my darling girl, i could write forever and ever about you: how you love your brother and proactively share with him. how, when mama explained to you what a panhandler was, you replied with all sincerity, “i have money. that guy can have my money.” how you call everyone you don’t know “that guy”, regardless of gender. how, if we let you eat any more sausage, you’ll probably develop gout by age 4. how you really, really want to be a big kid. how you already are a big kid. how your current favorite songs yankee doodle and señor don gato.
i love you, my hilarious little girl. as ever, you are my joy.