This is the end of my fourth summer with Wee One. She’s growing up. Just like everyone promised, it happened too fast and did not come soon enough.
Sometimes I can still see the concentration face she had as a baby, when her eyes were focused on something. She still makes that face, and reminds me when everything was new to her. Then she puts her hand on her hip. “Mom, you’re dewareweus.” (Hilarious)
She loves people. Wants to be friends with everybody. Lets things roll off her back. She is still cautious. She will observe before she does something. But then when she doesn’t, she really really doesn’t, like the best day ever. Everything is the best thing ever.
She still wants me around all the time. But not to snuggle and cling. Now she wants to do explore with me. Run, throw balls, play in the pool, play puzzles with me. I need to do all of her activities. I am her best friend.
Actually, I am not. Her best friend is a boy named Luke. But I am her mommy, and no one else gets to be that.
She loves babies and helping people. She likes to hold the communion bread at church. She will put her hand on her chest and say “My name is Evie.” Then, with the other hand, she will put it in my direction “and this is my mommy.”
My baby. My little girl. My love.