Hey, little Lilly.
You’re a light and a joy.
I love your silly and your sweet.
I love the way you love your siblings.
I even love (though I’d never admit it) the way you hurl yourself on the carpet when you’re told “no.” It’s so funny. I’d never encourage it, because it’s not an especially healthy way to handle frustration, but for now when your words are limited? Kudos for finding a way to tell me exactly what you think about that. The carpet does understand, love.
Right now, you are saying ALL THE WORDS. Well, no. You’re saying parts of each word. Mostly the vowel parts. Mostly in a whisper. It’s endearing and nearly impossible to decipher, especially in the noise of this house. “Oooh ah” means either “shoes on” or “shoes off.” It’s anybody’s guess. “Eee uh” means either “cheetah” or “Grandpa” or perhaps “teeth brush” or “Jesus.” You could make it easier, but I can’t imagine it being any cuter.
Your scrunched-up nose smile KILLS ME DEAD. Every day. Whether I’m asking for the cheesy smile or you just give it (usually in place of words you don’t feel like saying), it makes me laugh every time.
I love your determination. And sometimes it’s a pain. But that’s okay. It’ll be good… in several years. I think. (Good heavens… you and Brian are hitting the Will Of Iron phase right together and I think it might wipe me out. We’ll find out if I’m really good at handling the spunk of you little ones from all the practice or… if I’m just really tired from the bigs.)
I am still kinda thinking you’re the last baby I’ll carry and birth, and I’m just SO aware of how fleeting all these little stages are and I’m loving them so much. Your funny, waddling toddler run looks just like a baby monkey. (In the sweetest, most endearing way.) Your little baby belly and your baby curls and your dimples and your happy squeals… they all bring me so much joy. I know they won’t stay forever, but I sure love them now.
And really? It’s okay that you don’t stay little forever. I LOVED your teeny newborn self, and she’s gone now, replaced by a two-year-old version. While I miss that squishy, floppy baby phase, I like you even more now, and I have more than 7 years of raising your siblings to remind me that you’re gonna just keep getting cooler. (And also, if we’re being honest, more of a pain. Because every stage has its challenges, too.)
Baby, you’re lovely. And you’re growing up just right. I love you to pieces. We all do. You’re the littlest baby, so you have (by plenty) the least of my one-on-one attention. But you have SO MUCH LOVE from SO MANY PEOPLE.
I can’t believe you went from this…
Happy birthday, my delightful and lovely Lilly Mae.