Giving Our Children a Peaceful Christmas

Last Sunday, I let what should have been a light-hearted, happy Christmas church program turn into a reason to sigh in frustration at my 3-year-old and be generally cynical and peevish. We had practiced the hand motions to her Christmas song for a couple of weeks. I had talked up the fact that she was going to be a bunny--a BUNNY!--and get to bring her treasured rabbit stuffy, Hopson. But when she got to the big room with the bright lights and all ages of children milling about and being helped into their costumes on Sunday morning, she balked. "I don't want to be a bunny!" she announced.

"Look, everyone is coming to see you," I said through gritted teeth. "You are going to get into this bunny costume." I avoided a potential meltdown by taking her to a quiet adjoining room and dressing her there. Q doesn't do chaos.

The show starts. I'm frustrated that I have to come sit in front of the stage with her when it's time for all the animals to go up. I'm frustrated that she won't sit on the steps like the other 3-year-olds. And I'm frustrated when she bangs her hip on the stage because she's not sitting nicely, and I have to rush her out of the sanctuary, crying, as the main song starts. You know, the song we'd practiced? "Come on," I urged, "Are you ready to go back now?"

"I need to go to the bathroom!" she says cheerfully, her face still wet with tears. I run her to the bathroom, urge her to go quickly, and run her back into the sanctuary just as the last few words of the song fade away. Guess who's frustrated, annoyed, and disappointed? Hint: not her.

She got to bring Hopson to church. She got to hop around in front of the stage like a bunny. She got to walk up close and see Mary and Joseph. She got to be in church with three grandparents and her daddy. She got a goody bag with candy and a Christmas story coloring book. I was the one pressuring her to participate, worried what the grandparents would think if she didn't perform properly. She's 3. I have been emphasizing to her how Christmas is about peacefulness and having fun and giving to other people like God gave to us, and I didn't practice what I preached. Hopefully I'll learn from my mistakes.

Okay, so that's what Christmas shouldn't be. But I've seen some beautiful examples this week of what it should be.

Q and I were coming out of a store, and a small group of toddlers was being led down the sidewalk by their caretakers. Most of them were a bit younger than Q, about age 2. They stopped, smiled, and pointed at her excitedly. Then one of them, a little girl, walked up to her and carefully handed her a little piece of those round, tinfoil-wrapped chocolates (which was a bit tricky, since they were both wearing mittens). "And what do you say to her?" one of the teachers prompted. "Happy birthday!" the girl cried enthusiastically, and repeated it: "Happy birthday!" (I'm assuming she was supposed to say "Merry Christmas.") Q was amazed at the small treasure in her hand and that a complete stranger had given it to her.

Here's what else Christmas should be: As soon as I strapped Q in the car, she told me she was going to share her chocolate with me when we got home. It was such a tiny piece of chocolate, it was hard for me to bite it without eating the whole thing, but Q insisted. And on mornings when she gets to eat a bit of the various Christmas candies she's been given this year, she always saves the last little piece for her dad and puts it on his desk until he wakes up. It will often be a couple of hours before he makes his way upstairs, but she leaves it there just for him and excitedly points it out as soon as he emerges.

Christmas is the rough-looking older gentleman with the backpack who stopped at the street corner to kneel down and pet and sweet talk a friendly black cat.


Christmas is how my mom dropped everything and flew up to Canada in her least favorite weather with only 3 days' notice to stay with me for an undetermined amount of time while I did battle with some awful anxiety.

Christmas is my mother-in-law leaving directly from work to go clean a 90-year-old lady's house for her because she's about to come home after an extended stay in B.C.

Christmas is our neighbor giving Q a giant (edible) candy cane because last year, Q used to lick the big, lighted (non-edible) candy cane decorations that lined our neighbor's sidewalk.

Christmas is being easy on myself for my shortcomings and embracing my humanity and my emotions, and not fighting them.

One of the most precious gifts you can give to your children during Christmastime is your own peace and sense of calm and enjoyment. If a certain tradition stresses you out (I'm looking at you, Elf on the Shelf), don't do it. If you're not a baking kind of person, don't do it. If gift giving isn't your thing, don't do it (excepting immediate family, of course--but even that needs to be done in moderation). Enjoy your tree, the lights outside, the hot chocolate, family getting together, and the story of the nativity told and re-told. Select which traditions are important to you. The way we celebrate Christmas sends a powerful message to our kids. And sometimes the most powerful message can be found in a tiny tinfoil ball of chocolate and a little girl saying, "Happy birthday!"

Q turns 3

What can I say about you, daughter-of-my-heart? You just turned 3, and I watch with pleasure as your personality develops and shines through every day. You enjoy creative play and have begun making your stuffies and little figurines talk to each other. You like to re-enact your favorite episodes of Peppa Pig. You insist that everyone address you as Miss Rabbit. Your favorite color is pink. You enjoy building with Legos, and are just starting to get into coloring books (you got new markers for your birthday) and "big girl" puzzles. You like trains. Your favorite toy is a stuffed bunny named Hopson, who is looking surprisingly worn for only being one year old.

You still don't quite know what to make of other kids (when asked who your best friend is, you'll reply "Mom"). I think you are very much like Ferdinand the Bull, content to sit under the cork tree and smell the flowers as the other little bulls butt their heads and play with each other. You are cautious, but you have a very silly side. You have good memorization abilities and are able to (mostly) sit still when required. I jokingly call you, "My delicate little flower."

I don't mind your gentleness. I think the world can always use more gentleness. As long as you are confident and sure of yourself, I think that gentleness will be a beautiful trait in you. You have a wonderful imagination that I truly enjoy watching develop. You love to play "horse around" with Dad. You are a remarkably un-picky eater--you'll try a couple bites of almost anything before deciding for a fact that you don't like it. But you definitely also have a sweet tooth--for the past week, you've been asking me to walk with you to the corner convenience store to get an ice cream cone (it's below freezing outside, mind you).

Having a daughter is turning out to be a more wonderful adventure than I imagined it would be, and I look forward to the coming year, even with its endless string of nonsensical questions and "why's".

Florida Trip 2015

Our feet crunched on the frosty grass in the early morning as we loaded up the car for the drive to Calgary, but we were met with a blast of hot, humid air as we stepped over the threshold from the plane to the airport terminal in Florida just shy of midnight on the same day. I immediately realized that I had overestimated our need for long-sleeved shirts and jackets.

The next couple of days were spent getting settled into our home-away-from-home. My parents have lived in the same house since I was 4 years old, and the familiarity is like a big, warm blanket wrapped around you that makes you feel safe. The landscape is ever-changing--my mom confesses that she moves plants more often than she moves her furniture. The oranges on her orange tree aren't ripe yet, but Q likes to pick the green ones that have fallen on the ground and throw them into the backyard marsh. There are shrimp plants, plants with wide, green leaves as big as elephant ears, and of course, the ancient, towering oaks that have remained unchanged since my childhood.

Q and I shared a room, which was an exciting novelty for her. Every morning, she would climb up into my big bed for a cuddle. She slept on a single-size mattress right underneath the window, and sometimes at night, she could see the moonlight glittering through the tree leaves above her. I used to love as a child in the summertime when the moonlight would flood through the window and make elaborate latticework patterns across my bed.

One of Q's favorite things to do at Gaga's house was make bread. She helped pour the ground grain into the mixer and watched as the metal arms slowly swirled in a circle to make the dough. She was then given her own little mound of dough and stood on a stepping stool by the counter kneading it quite a bit more than was necessary. The cross section of one of her little loaves looked strikingly like a bunny!

Speaking of bunnies, Q got to pet a real, live bunny for the first time at Gaga's friend's house. He was quite old for a bunny, but his fur was still surprisingly soft. Q was reticent, as is her custom, but both bunny and toddler were gentle with each other. She also had great fun looking at the chickens that were also housed in the same yard.

One of our first stops in Florida was, of course, the beach. Q finds it equally delightful each time she goes, and is thankfully past the eating sand phase (but just barely). As is tradition, she held onto both Gaga's and Papa's hands as they all let the little waves wash over their toes. Later in the trip, we visited the beach with Uncle Tom. The tide had just gone out, and Q loved splashing in all the little, warm tide pools with the soft sand that your feet sink right into. She also loved it when her uncle tossed her above his head.

The first week into my visit, a very dear, old friend flew down to visit me from Washington D.C. She and I have maintained a friendship for a very impressive 29ish years! She was Q's favorite kind of adult--one that didn't make a big deal about whether Q liked her or not. So of course Q liked her. Q even asked her to get into bed and cuddle with her. And she was particularly enthused by the photos of M's two cats, Toaster and Plumley. We made an expedition to the colossal, 4-story downtown library (complete with security guards who check your purse when you come in) and collected an impressive selection of children's books before playing around the fountain in the inner courtyard. There was a small sculpture garden located directly across the street, so we paused for a photo op on the way out. We also visited the carousel in St. Augustine, took M to eat my parents' favorite fish tacos at a play called Sid and Linda's, and perused the Riverside Art Market with Tom, where we sampled a variety of international foods ranging from truffle fries to stuffed grape leaves.

The rest, I suppose, were mostly little snapshots from the trip that I don't want to forget: the time Q fell asleep in the car and Papa sat out in the driveway "babysitting" her so I could take a nap. Mom and I painting The Wheat Room. The honey grenade. The pumpkin patch. The homemade sandbox set on top of two crates on the back porch where Q made sand castles and stuck leaves and flowers in them for flags. Q being introduced my some of my old dolls and spending hours playing with the furniture and pretend food (and leaving "fresh vegetables on the stairs," a la There's An Alligator Under My Bed). A peaceful play-date with Malakai (I wish we'd had more!). Doing make-up with Gaga in the morning. Her second haircut from Ms. Donna (the woman who gave me my first haircut at 6 months!).

And, of course, the incestuous mama bird at the zoo who the zookeepers were shooing off her nest with a giant broom so that they could replace her real eggs with fake, pre-warmed eggs made out of FORMER real eggs to prevent her from laying more eggs with her brother-lover too quickly. For real.

I Want to Mom-Date You

Why aren't mom-dating websites a thing? Can we make them a thing?

You know the feeling. You're sitting at the kitchen table at 10am nursing your 4th 2nd cup of coffee, wondering how to pass the time before lunch. You could take your kid to the park and sit awkwardly on a bench, wondering if other moms will give you the sidelong glance for sitting on your butt and not going down the slide with your 2-year-old, or perhaps the sidelong glance for going down the slide with your 2-year-old (Because you're really getting a little old for that sort of thing, aren't you? And you're stifling your kid's creativity and problem-solving skills). You could take your kid to the cafe for some mid-morning tea and a $4 scone and hope that the waitress isn't silently hating you for bringing in a toddler who spills three thousand crumbs on the floor. Or, you could hang out with a mom-friend and be totally oblivious to all those real and imaginary pinpoint judgments you're convinced that perfect strangers pelt you with at the slightest provocation. Planting your rear end on a park bench is totally acceptable when you're with a mom-friend! Kid depositing three thousand scone crumbs on the carpeted floor of a swanky restaurant? Her kid just deposited three thousand and ONE scone crumbs, so that waitress is going to have to hate both of us!

Making new mom-friends is so much like dating, we really need to have a website for it. Look for other moms seeking companionship in your immediate town!

My profile would contain important information about my preferences. Fact: If I show up at a park and see three school buses unloading, I will probably turn the car right back around and go somewhere else. Fact: I get squeamish about public places that I perceive to have lots of germs. Fact: 1:30pm-4:30pm are generally off-limits because I will be trying in vain to get my daughter to nap. Fact: I am very introverted, but I don't need my friends to be. In fact, sometimes extroverts help to move the conversation along better when I am fumbling for something to say. Fact: I might get quiet when your kid is acting up and you are attempting discipline, but rather than judging you, I am feeling grateful that my kid isn't the only one who loses her s**t at inopportune times.

Come on, I know some other of you moms wanna mom-date. We could get some coffee, hang out at a park, and figure out if we can move this relationship to the next level of sending each other TMI texts about our post-birth bodies and really tacky jokes that we know the other will laugh at, even if just to make us feel better (I'm lookin' at you, Candace).

Here's my mom-dating profile picture, ya'll. No make-up, never do my hair, and generally can be spotted in a slouchy t-shirt/tank-top and ill-fitting black cotton pants. Scarf optional.

If attacked by a mob of clowns, go for the juggler.

^Did that joke make you laugh? Let's talk...

This Tiny House is Only 14 Square Feet, But Wait Until You See Inside!

Nestled on the prairies of Alberta, Canada, beside a painted, gray fence and a sprawling cedar tree, sits a tiny little house. At only 14 square feet, this rustic cabin puts most other tiny houses to shame, but it is perfectly suited for its occupant: Quinn, aged 2.

Upon entering the tiny house, you are greeted by a light and airy space, with clean-cut wood paneling and numerous white-framed windows to let in the sunlight and make this house appear much bigger than its meager 14 square feet.

It boasts all the modern amenities, such as an electric stove, sink with hot and cold taps, cordless telephone, doorbell, clock, and chalkboard walls and utensil hooks as added space-saving conveniences. Sprawling counter space provides Quinn with plenty of room for food preparation as she enjoys the view of the giant cedar tree outside her sizable, open-concept kitchen window.

High-vaulted ceilings make the house appear even larger and can accommodate a surprising number of people under it--Quinn's record, to-date, is 3 adults plus herself. "This house has been more than adequate for all my needs," Quinn explains as she tosses her plastic, red snow shovel out the side window and then runs around the retrieve it again. "It is more than enough room for me, and clean up is nearly nonexistent." She pauses to wipe a smear of chalk off her mouth.

Quinn demonstrates the versatility of the house's one-of-a-kind grass carpeting. "It's organic," she says proudly. This unique flooring not only serves as luxurious, all-natural sleeping accommodations, but also an environmentally-friendly plumbing and sanitation solution. As soon as the floor becomes soiled, you simply hoist the house up and move it over a few feet. "Mommy and Daddy do that," Quinn adds. This innovative method not only fertilizes the existing lawn, but prevents the house's occupant from ever having to so much as touch a broom.

Quinn's favorite luxury, however, is that one of the windows boasts sturdy wooden shutters, which are "Optimal," she explains, "for playing peek-a-boo with Mommy."

Stuff We've Done Instead of Shopping

It's been about 3 weeks since my venture into not buying "stuff," and it has gone surprisingly smoothly. I have made one small slip-up, and that is buying two pairs of bicycle shorts for Q to wear under her dresses so that she can run and play and all those kid-like things without having to worry about showing her underwear. There's a black pair and a white pair, so it was a pretty unexciting purchase. Here she is holding the evidence (and clearly condoning our misdeed):

And while we're on the subject, a lack of appropriate-length shorts for girls is one of my pet peeves. If I put my 2-year-old in thigh-high shorts (which is the style) and she happens to sit cross-legged, her underwear is showing. This problem is easily solved by knee-length shorts, which are both practical and comfortable, but they are really dang hard to find in the girls' section. That is stupid. The shorts she's wearing in the above picture were actually rolled up and stitched with thread so that they were the "shorter" style. I just love that... they are making appropriate-length girl shorts AND THEN SEWING THEM UP. The Children's Place actually makes nice, knee-length shorts for girls if you're willing to pony up the money, so good on them!

All right, back to your regularly scheduled blog.

We haven't truly come across any instances where I was greatly inconvenienced by not being able to buy something. I have a slight yearning for a tomato plant enclosure so that my plant doesn't sprawl all over the garden box, but I am attempting to remedy this with sticks and string. I thought about purchasing some thick wooden dowels to construct a play teepee, but so far, good old-fashioned gardening implements are doing the trick (but fie the day I ever need my rake!).

For Father's Day, we gave Steven a survey filled out by Q (transcribed by me, of course), a card, and a chocolate bar we scored at church. And ya know what? Not buying stuff really takes some pressure off, just in general. You know that stress of when you really want to buy something and are trying to justify spending the money? I don't have to deal with that right now! I'm not bothering to look through the racks of cute toddler clothes or the home decor aisles. I don't feel such a compulsion to "keep up with the Joneses." We have what we have, and it is sufficient.


So what have we been up to with all our free time?

Baking Lembas bread (an elf staple, for those of you who aren't familiar with LotR),

Experimenting with different hairstyles,

Trying out new dishes (this is pancake-batter chicken bites),

And trains...

Trains...

Trains.

The Purchase-Free Challenge

Quite unintentionally, 2015 has become The-Year-of-Me-Sort-of-Turning-Into-a-Hippie. I use soap nuts instead of laundry detergent. I recycle like a fiend and have started attempting (mostly successfully) to reduce our trash to one bag a week or less. I've tried my hand at composting (I won't know whether or not that's working for a couple more months). And I've sworn off pesticides and fertilizers because not only does Q like to take off her shoes and socks and run barefoot in the grass, but she still puts her mouth on EVERYthing, both inside and outside. The other day, I found her sucking water out of her socks that had gotten wet outside. And today, she scooted on her stomach along the living room floor as she licked it. Eww. For the same reason, I've also started to make my own cleaners out of non-toxic things like vinegar. So yeah, Year of the Hippie. I honestly did not see that one coming.

Hippie Exhibit A: Homemade Compost Bucket

Hippie Exhibit B: Homemade Granola

Hippie Exhibit C: Soap Nuts

My newest Kinda-Sorta-Hippie-Project that I am really excited about is going an extended amount of time without purchasing any non-essential items. I stole the idea from several different sources online, but I am excited to make a go of it. That means: no presents, no clothes (I'm going to make an exception for shoes if Q grows out of them), no toys, no books (this one will be tough), no items for the house... Basically, if it can't be consumed within a year, we don't need it. On the one hand, I don't feel like I am a big spender. The last new item of clothing I remember buying was when I was in Florida in November. On the other hand, I think that this challenge may prove to be more difficult than I anticipate. As soon as I decided to do it, I began coming up with a mental list of things that I should buy before it started. I ultimately decided that this defeats the purpose, so I am going to try to resist.

I will have to hold off on purchasing that "essential" banana slicer.

I'll try to blog about our progress periodically. To be honest, I haven't exactly solidified the idea with my husband yet, so I'm not yet sure whether this will be a one-woman project or a family effort. I'm worse about smaller, multiple purchases, but he is more likely to splurge on the occasional big piece of camera equipment or computer hardware. Here is a lowdown of the "rules" that a particular family used during their No-Purchase Year (I'm not gonna go a whole year. I'm going to shoot for 3-6 months.) Like I said, I'm making an exception for shoes.

I also think I should confess to you that I am going out to hunt for a small area rug for Q's room, this afternoon. I plan to start this challenge on June 1, but I will try to keep the purchases to a minimum until then. Still, to assuage the guilt of my overburdened soul, I admit that yes, I will go shopping today.

I hope this picture of a dog forgetting how to dog cancels out my forthcoming infraction.

How I Became a Cool Cyborg

"Kati!" the masses have been clamoring, "Why haven't you written a blog entry about your new insulin pump?" No one has actually said that, but I'm sure they all WOULD be if they knew about my newest cybernetic extension. I am the proud recipient of the latest in diabetic technology, the only tubeless insulin pump. It is somewhat of a terrifying acquisition because it involves you having to forget EVERYTHING YOU KNOW about insulin:carb ratios and how much insulin your body needs. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

A normal person's pancreas sends out periodic little spurts of insulin to counteract the sugar released by the liver and use it for energy. Their pancreas also releases bigger spurts of insulin every time they eat, to counteract those carbohydrates (sugar). A type 1 diabetic's body makes ZERO insulin ever, so we counteract those little spurts by taking one big shot a day that spreads out over a period of 22-24 hours, in addition to taking little shots whenever we eat carbs (meals and snacks). This adds up to usually between 4-6 shots on a normal day. However, the big, long-acting shot kinda sucks because it doesn't account for things like exercise or sickness, when your body may have more or less sugar floating around. So an insulin pump mimics a normal person's pancreas with little spurts of insulin every hour, and you can raise or lower that amount as needed. Furthermore, you can program it to give you different amounts of insulin per chunk of day: for example, from noon until 8pm, my pump is currently programmed to give me 0.65 units of insulin every hour, but from 3am to 8am, when my sugars tend to naturally rise, it's programmed to give me 0.85 units per hour. This precision will make things much easier in the long run, but it makes getting started on the pump a little overwhelming. 

All right, at the risk of this starting to sound too science-y, I'm going to show you PICTURES! Woo!

The pump consists of two parts: The handheld device where you input all your numbers, and the little "pod" (pictured here) that sticks to your body and holds the insulin. You have to change the pod every 3 days, or else that particular area of your body might start absorbing the insulin poorly, or you might get an infection.

The pod has a thin little tube called a cannula that sticks into your skin and delivers the insulin. The most common question I get is whether it hurts. I can feel it when it first goes in (you tell your device that you want to start a new pod, and it automatically inserts the cannula into you--it's a prick that feels similar to checking your blood sugar), but after that, I forget it's there. In fact, the most painful part is taking it off after three days, because the tape is so dang sticky. The above picture shows the little "viewing window" where you can faintly see the cannula going in (it's nice to be able to check to make sure it hasn't come out if you bump it or something).

Here is a used pod so that you can see how long the cannula is. Believe it or not, you THROW THE POD AWAY after its three days are up and put on a completely new one, which is kind of crazy for such a sophisticated little device. It is a very resilient little thing--I've bumped it quite hard, and the cannula has never come dislodged. You can shower with it, sleep on it, exercise with it... It kind of makes me feel like a cool cyborg.

Sadly, the pump does not test blood sugar, so I still have to do that. I do it with the handheld device, pictured here. This is NOT waterproof, and also kind of annoyingly big to lug around in your purse. It has to be near the pod when you are changing anything--activating a new pod, for example, or giving a dose of insulin for a meal--but they don't have to be near each other otherwise. The pod will continue to give the little bursts of insulin it is pre-programmed to do.

You can wear the pod on your arms, thighs, abdomen, upper back, or butt. I've been moving it all around to get the feel for where I like it best and where has good absorption.

So, there ya have it! And, to answer the second most common question I get regarding the pump, yes, Steven is thinking about getting one too.

A Brag Entry

You all know that we've had our challenges with Q. She was kind of a sickly baby for a little while, and pretty fussy/reactive thereafter. I always worried when I saw her with other kids/babies her age, because they invariably seemed more outgoing in comparison. Q has made it very clear right from the beginning that she is neither a social butterfly nor a people-pleaser. But sometimes I think that I'm so nervous about bragging, that I fail entirely to mention the wonderful things about her. Because she is a pretty awesome kid, and to be honest, it's good that she's not a social butterfly (for my sake). That means I won't ever feel pressured to throw her big birthday parties with lots of kids and activities, or take her to really crowded events. I am easily overstimulated, and it appears that she inherited this trait. After seeing her "play" at the park with a couple of friends this past week, I started worrying about whether she had autism (she totally doesn't--she's just very introverted and introspective). So it's definitely time for me to write down all the things I love about her.

So, if you have another child/grandchild of the same age and think that you will be put off by a bit of bragging, now is the time to stop reading! Because I'm going to tell you some of my favorite things about Q.

1. She loves to read. LOVES it. If I don't put any sort of limit to reading, she will bring me book after book and have me read to her for an hour or more (once I timed it and finally had to stop her at an hour and a half, because I was getting tired!). I hear her talking to herself about the things we read about. She sits quietly and doesn't fidget--she just leans against my arm and listens contentedly.

2. She's a really good eater. I VERY rarely have to fight with her at mealtime. She has one small snack (in the afternoon), and generally doesn't ask for any more snacks throughout the day unless she sees someone else having one. This means that she is nice and hungry at mealtimes, and usually finishes everything I put in front of her. She is also one of those crazy people that likes veggies (which, I assure you, she didn't inherit from her father or I--we just got lucky!). This morning, she insisted that I give her veggies sticks with her cereal for breakfast. The only time she doesn't get her recommended daily intake of veggies is if I neglect to offer them to her. Even if she doesn't particularly like something, she will make herself try several bites before rejecting it.

3. She absorbs information very well. I think this goes along with the reading. She's getting to an age where I'm able to teach her fun things. She knows her colors, shapes, ABCs, and how to count to 10 (or more--I'm not sure). Now we've moved on to more complicated shapes (rectangle vs. square, oval vs. circle, octagon) and are working on recognizing the alphabet by sight. She can also say The Lord's Prayer, the days of the week, and can point out many (not all) of the Canadian provinces. She knows the difference between evergreen and deciduous (that's from a Fancy Nancy book!). I'm not convinced that she's smarter than the average 2-year-old (and truly, I would rather her be compassionate and love others than I would her be the smartest), but she loves to learn and absorbs facts like a sponge. I think most children are like that. It's one of the wonderful things about them.

4. She's thorough. Whether I taught this to her or she inherited it, I don't know. But I am teaching her about chores and completing them correctly. She puts her dirty clothes in the hamper (and if her first toss leaves the arm of a shirt hanging over the hamper, she'll walk over and tuck it all the way in). She helps me unload the dishwasher and puts all the silverware in their correct slots. When she cleans up her toys, she puts them in the proper box/slot. And she is learning, albeit slowly, to be more gentle with her vast book collection.

I've been recollecting lately that she no longer looks that much like me (here's some photographic proof), but I still see a LOT of my personality in her, and it often makes things easier because I can understand her so well. I am genuinely loving watching her personality develop, and I can see the makings of a wonderful woman. I wouldn't have her any other way.