Things I Love

I need a new category.
If I have one called "ranting", I should balance that out, no? There are some things that make my heart sing. I think I will try to make a habit of sharing those. In case they become like that horrific "cal-i-forn-ia girls" song and become totally contagious and embedded in your psyche, so that whether you like it or not, your heart sings too.
So here are some things that make my heart sing. Things I Love.
This time, because it's so easy- Things I Love about Little One:

*How She mispronounces certain words. Like
Shish (fish) or
Tursey (thirsty) or
Buh-lal-er-la-ler (Banana)

*How She thinks that "balance" and "bounce" sound the same. So during clean-up time when I ask Her to put away Her tea-tray, and to be careful to balance it, She holds it gingerly, and walks so carefully to the shelf... bouncing at the knees every other step. Repeating softly to Herself, "bounce, bounce, bounce".

*That She puts "yah" at the end of everything, and it makes everything cute.
As in a statement, to solidify a decision or argument: "Mommy, this book, yah. Yah mommy, this one. Not this one. This one, yah. Yah mommy."
Or (in the middle of the night) "Thirsty! Thirsty Yah! Water yah mommy! Water Yah!"
Or as a question:
"Cracker? Yah? Little One cracker mommy? Yah? Mommy? Cracker ya?"
or "This? This bug? Yah mommy? Bug yah?" No, hon, it's a raisin. But still, you are a cutie.

*That when She has bad dreams She calls out for "tuckies" and "snuggles" from down the hall.

*That She reads Her books to the doggies while they lie in their beds.

*That She reads Her books "to the baby" while we cuddle in mine. Occasionally patting my tummy and showing it the pictures.

*That She either pretends or believes that if She looks right into my belly button, She can see the "tiny baby". Babies look like lint, perhaps? Could be. Kind of a Rorschach thing, I suppose.

*That She never fails to say "bleff you!" when someone sneezes.

*That She still loves Her tea parties, and loves them best when we all attend. And that, while She meticulously sets out dishes and plastic food for us all, She brings an extra cup to my spot. "Mommy, this one, no you. This one special. This for baby."
She holds it up to my belly button. And dabs it with a napkin.