[i posted this on the old H2O back in january...]
she loves shoes....
it may be 11:00 at night, and she may have pjs on, but she'll muscle up some
sandles, or some Sunday-go-to-meeting black patent leather... she wants to
put them on. i'll be in another room, watching the news or football, and
she'll show up.. plop down the shoes. always shoes. and "shocks." it must
start early.
she will not rest when i come home from work, until she helps me take my
work shoes off. she will have a fit if i want to sit for a minute. the second
they are off, she takes them both to my closet. she has to do it herself. "i got
it," she says. "okay, Baby."
i like it when i ask her how she's doing and she says, in perfect English, "I'm fine."
i like it when she says: "thanth-choo." (thank you). sometimes she says it
real quiet and shy, like, even though you're the only one there, still, she
wants to make sure YOU'RE the only one who hears. a whispered "thanth
choo," accompanied by a grin. she knows what she's doing.
when she says "shide"...
meaning: "let's go outside." when she cries, and i think of it, "shide?" is the
magic word. in other words: into the backyard. the only thing she knows out
there is "tree." she doesn't know "cloud" or "sky" or "wind." doesn't know
"star" or "moon." she knows tree, though. oh... and lately, she knows
"ooooh, cold!"
and she knows how to press her hand against the door (when we come in),
putting pressure on it, to close it. and how to turn the lock.
she HATES it when you try to give her a chip out of the bag. i mean she
pitches a fit. she wants to get her own chip, thank you very much.
when i walk through the room where she's with her mother, and she says to
me, "hi, Baby." i call her Baby.
lately she's been calling to me from other parts of the house.... "todd...
todd... Todd... Todd... TODD... TODD! TODD!!!" i try my best to ignore
her when she does it, but it makes even me laugh. "look, little girl. i'm not
Todd. i'm 'Daddy.'"
i hate it (love it?) when she NEVER lets me eat in peace. she loves meat.
steak. chicken. sausage. whatever is on my plate, she likes. loves eggs. and
potatoes. and vegetables.
and she likes watching me cook. breakfast. lunch. dinner. Standing at my
feet she says, "hmm. hmmm. hmmm." ("pick me up"). i never resist.
she knows "hot."
speaking of "hot," she actually likes coffee. only a sip or two. but she likes
it. maybe only cause Daddy likes it.
she knows how to get a tissue and blow her own nose. and then, to take the
tissue and put it in the trash. she wastes a lot of tissue, but you have to
marvel... and i do.
i have never felt more powerless in my life than when she is sick.
i like it when i pick her up in the wee hours of every morning, on the way
out of the house, and she clings to me and grabs the hair on the back of my
head. i absolutely LOVE that.
i like it when i try to give her to her mother (who's a very good mother, i
might say) and sometimes, not always, but sometimes Jillani sticks to me
and cries when i try to give her away.
i like that. it melts my heart.
it makes me sad, for some reason, when she says "nite-nite".