Our Girlie

This little girl.

She’s two. And I can’t figure out where the time has gone. From this.

To this.

Our mischievous, funny, light-hearted little girl. I am reeling to think that she is no longer a baby. At all.

She runs to hide from us at bedtime (usually behind her bedroom curtains or in plain sight in the middle of the hallway).

She loves and names every one of her baby dolls (Macy, Molly and Isabelle), and loves to shout, “I am a girlie!”

She could spend hours reading the same three books over and over and over again, and snuggles closer in my lap with every consecutive reading (this one knows how to work her mommy).

And she can most often be found closely eyeing whatever toy her big brother has in hand.

She runs everywhere, loves to root around for chapstick or a forgotten treat in my purse, and already speaks her mind (“No Daddy, I don’t like dat” & “Porta, Don’t touch me eva again!”).

And she does it all in this tiny peanut of a body with a knowing little smile that melts my heart.

Two.


A full-blown toddler who knows all her colors but would prefer to give you the wrong answer while grinning at her funny little joke (except for pink – she crows the name of that one out with glee every time).

Feeling so lucky that she’s ours.