Eileen is no longer a baby- I’m sure to a stranger she looks that way but to me, to me she is a tiny human. And a cute one, too. She runs, jumps, and tries her best to communicate in a variety of fashions. Her independence is blooming in a very positive way that lets her mother know that there will be turmoil ahead, but we will have a good time getting through it.
She has quite the shoe fetish and spends most of her morning picking out shoes, trying them on, saying, “Noooo...” removing and trying a new pair. They do not always match whatever smocked frilly thing I have on her, but it gives her a chance to make a decision and whatever decision she makes, I can live with it.
Me- “Eileen, what comes after EIGHTTTT?”
She knows her vowels and can say most of her letters, even if she has no idea what they look like. Except for “E” -- she has “E” down like it is her job. Every monument, every sign, every “E” she spots is marked with a very loud and gleeful shout of “EEEEE! MAMA! EEEE!”
Yep. That’s my girl.
She still makes the sign in the morning when she is hungry as we are laying in bed watching Mickey Mouse. If I am not paying attention, she jumps off the bed, runs to her chair, flips off her tray, and hops in. Wanting to be her own person, the tray is on the floor, so she leans down saying, “I get it. I get it. I get it. I get it.” all the while not realizing that her hands and arms cannot stretch that far, so what she is really saying is, “Hey! Mom! YOU get it!”
Her newest word is “Hep.”
“Mama, hep?” with an empty snack trap.
“Mama, hep?” with her hand on the pantry door (which has been locked off with a pink grosgrain ribbon).
“Mama, hep?” when she gets into the pantry and pulls out the cracker box.
“Mama, tanks.” as she hands me the empty cracker box.
“Mama, tanks.” as she hands me the sleeve of crackers to place back in the empty box.
“Mama, I get it.” as she takes the box back to the pantry and closes the door, only to remove the corn Chex.
She is my little person and we are having the best time exploring and playing together. Last night, we dyed Easter eggs & she was covered in dye. It was an experience and an adventure for all of us. Next year will be even more fun and probably involve fewer cracked eggs.
She stacks blocks, spices, boxes, soup cans, pretty much anything she can get her hands on on a regular basis. She stirs when I stir, and sits in the chair next to me stacking papers when I am sitting at my desk working.
And the best... the very best... my absolute favorite...
“Hey Eileen, where is your humorous?”
A gesture to her upper arm.
“And Eileen, where is your femur?”
A pat to her thigh.
“And your phalanges?”
Her fingers wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, and we both laugh.
Everyone who sees this trick says, “That’s a doctors kid.”
Will and I respond with, “No- That’s RACHEL’S kid!”