Bugaboo!

When did my little bugaboo turn into such a little person? She has her favorite toys, her favorite songs. She knows how to get my attention by screaming, and pretending to put things in her mouth. When I gasp and run after her, she runs and laughs. She knows just what to do to trigger the right reaction.

Today I told her that I needed her help with groceries. I had 3 heavy bags to carry upstairs, her, and a gallon of milk. I asked her if she could walk. I set her down on the patio and grabbed my bags. She darted to the door on her own and attempted to get inside. I panicked that someone was going to fly out the door and knock her over. So, I ran over and scooped her up, and attempted to carry her while trying to pick up my bags. She's gotten so big now, I just couldn't do it.

Finally, I told her again that I needed her to help me by walking and carrying her doggie. She went to the opposite end of the patio, sat down, and took her shoes off. Then she started crying.

I went to her side and helped her with her shoes. I tried to figure out how I was going to carry everything upstairs with her, without making 3 trips, when my guardian angel showed up -- a tall man in a cowboy hat. He asked if he could help me. He carried all my grocery bags up for me, and I carried E. I thanked him 100 times. Cowboy, take me away!

I got E inside then had to step back into the hallway to grab the grocery bags. She had a complete meltdown seeing me walk out the door. As I ducked back inside with the groceries, I lifted her into my arms and told her, "I won't leave you for a million years, I promise." And I meant it.

Still, every time I put her down for the next half hour, she cried hysterically. Finally I told her, "Listen, it's you and me, kid! That's all there is to it!" She seemed to understand that, and proceeded to help me put groceries in the fridge.

I handed her a brick of cheese (her favorite). I was sure she wouldn't recognize it in brick form. I always cut it up for her. As she was stretching to put it on the shelf of the fridge, she stopped and looked down at it. Then she looked up at me questioningly.

"Cheese?" she asked.
"Um... yes."
"Cheese!!!"
"Yes. But, we're not going to have any right now. We have to finish putting groceries away."
"CHEESE!!!!"

Now I understand my absolutely insane cheese cravings I had throughout my entire pregnancy. Just like the cravings that wouldn't quit, E wouldn't quit either. The world stopped, and we ate some cheese.

We played blocks. We played "These boots were made for walkin'" (our own silly game), and watched TV, chased each other around the apartment.

When I changed her diaper, she grabbed a book to read. I laughed hysterically at her nonchalant way of reading like an old man flipping through the newspaper while on the toilet -- the book: Alexander, and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Before bed, she asked me to read "Roar!" and "tuh-pillah" (The Very Hungry Caterpillar). She finished each sentence of the book. Her favorite is to say "Pop!" when the caterpillar pops out of his egg.

At the end of the book, it says, "... and he was a beautiful butterfly!" She usually says, "utta-fy" or some form of the word.

Yesterday, though, while reciting the story riding in the car, she insisted that the caterpillar turned into a beautiful "Mama." I know she was just experimenting with word combinations, but it made me cry all the way to day care.

Does she intuitively know that I'm striving for that -- to come into my own, to be the best Mama to the best kid in the world? Am I close? I hope so. Every day she becomes more of a little person, the more I want to be a better person for her to look up to.