They say every baby is special. Every baby is beautiful. I know that there's no single thing in the world as soft as baby skin, nothing as joyous as a baby belly laugh. And I have known a lot of babies in my life. But when I found out your momma, my baby sister, was pregnant with you, I knew you would be special to me, just as she was. When I saw you for the first time, swaddled up like a little glow-worm in the hospital, it was so clear to me that I would always love you best. That was only two years ago, but it's already impossible to imagine our world without you in it.
You have not been still for a single second since you were born. Even as a tiny infant in your little bouncy seat, you always had one foot kicking constantly. The only way you seemed to sleep much was in that seat with the vibrations set to lull you into twilight, or on a pillow on your momma's lap for as long as she could sit and rock you (hours, if she had to). You asserted your personality from day one, but the first thing I really remember standing out was that you could NOT stand the music on one of your little mobile play pads. I got a video sent by your parents of you lying on the pad, and when the music started, your entire bottom lip curled down pitifully, and you started wailing. It was the saddest and funniest thing I'd ever seen. Hats would do the same thing to you: on went the hat, down went the lip. I just started calling that face "The Lip!" although it probably wasn't very nice to laugh at it. We all knew by then that you'd be your own girl no matter what, and we were right. You are a pistol.
Your momma taught you to sign as you learned to speak, but you....were....stubborn, and no power on earth could make you talk if you didn't want to. You signed and still sign for milk, thank you, please, and all done. For a while, I was worried about the fact that you were such a quiet baby. But now, you chatter all the time. I have no idea what you're saying sometimes, but "No," "Yesh," and "'top!" (your emphatic version of "Stop!") are perfectly clear. So are "sister" and "baby" and "papa." I'm just proud enough of you to say that I think you're becoming very verbal and that your parents are going to be praying for you to be a little quieter before long.
It's obvious that you're very, very smart. As I was giving you a bath tonight, I watched how you knew how to make your light-up bath toys work: one push of the button in the suction cup turned on the lights, and another push made them flash. You hit the button in two quick, deft movements to make them flash every time you turned them on. Ever since you were walking, you'd pick up your toys at night before bedtimes with little cue, prompting us to joke about how picky your mom is and that you're going to be more OCD than she is. You can name almost anything pointed out to you in your books, and name it clearly. I don't think most toddlers are as careful about putting things in their "correct" places---but that's because your momma is always talking to you, explaining what's going on and teaching you. She's taken a lot of kidding for it, but it's going to be a blessing for you both. Your iron will makes you sure that you're older than you really are and are capable of doing most of what anyone does; today, for example, you were determined to help me make the spaghetti sauce for your birthday party, and we had a little contest of head-butting before we compromised and stirred together so the sauce didn't wind up on the floor instead of in the crock pot. I can only imagine what kind of strength you're going to be capable of in a few years. I'm glad you have it; a strong girl is more likely to be a satisfied, happy, safe girl.
I remember a friend looking at a picture of you when you were just a baby and saying, "Oh my goodness, that is an old person in a baby's body," and it was so true. You have the quintessential old soul. I can look into your hazel eyes and see clear down to the center of your being, to a girl made of light and air and prairie skies, a girl whose spirits will never be tamped down by the hard experiences of life. I see wisdom you haven't earned yet but will possess in full when the days roll around. I see a sweet heart full of joy for your family, all dogs, a pasture full of cows, and hillbilly music. I hear a song that you sing when you think no one is listening, a song that you've heard in your own mind and transcribe for the rest of us.
You are your momma's drama, your daddy's temper, your papa's girl. You're the apple of your sister's eye, and the light of grandma's life. You love Mickey Mouse, tortillas, dancing, and fruit of all sorts. You can't stand to ride in the pastures without a seat belt on, yelling "Buckle!" until someone gets the hint, yet you have no brakes when you're excited about something. You make us all laugh a thousand ways with your silly faces, little grown-up behaviors, and insistent statements. You are pure magic to your momma and daddy, making them two of the most happy and grateful parents ever. You have major meltdowns at times, but you can turn a heart to mush by replying to "Love you" with your baby-voiced "Wuv ooo." You're almost too old to be rocked now, but you'll still sometimes let me whisper the little chant in your ears that I've always told you: "Allie, Allie, Allie-boo, Pooky-boo, I love you." I dread the day you become too old for it. In my heart, I pray you never will.
If two years is enough for you to burrow this deep in my heart, I can only imagine what the rest of our time together has in store. I can't wait to see who and how you become. Happy 2nd birthday, Pooky. <3
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