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Dear Susanna,

Posted on Mar 2, 2015 by in Family | 0 comments

IMG_3307Baby Girl,

You’re fifteen months old now and changing so rapidly I feel the need to freeze you in this moment time, which I will attempt to do here.  My words paint your portrait so I can go back and look at you deeply, remember who you were as you emerged from infant life into toddlerhood, universal baby characteristics melting away to reveal personality.

You love attention. My grocery trips are always an opportunity for Isaac to nap in the cart with his head cushioned on the toilet paper and your time to wave and flirt. Old, young, male, female, it doesn’t matter. If they will look at you, you’ll wave and say “Hi!” or “Bye bye!” or even just point while flashing a toothy grin.

Your favorite phrases are “Love you! (wove ooo!),”Good Girl! (Goo Gu),” Up!, “More!,” “Hello?,” “Yummy,” “Eat” and to sing along with your favorite song, “I love Susanna.”  You sing yourself to sleep if someone holds you when you’re tired.  You say all of your siblings names.  You love all of your siblings’ lovies: Abby’s Bunnabear, Ben’s Puppy, Isaac’s Green Blankie–all of them are your friends, and you collect them as often as possible.

You love to eat and you think cuties/haloes are the bees’ knees.  I can hardly get them through the checkout if you spot your favorite orange gems.

You have a temper and you express your feelings.  You wrinkle your nose, furrow your brow, and fuss if we don’t get your message–which is often considering your limited vocabulary.  You cry loud with your tongue vibrating, showing us all your swollen pink gums admitting pearly white molars. You’ve peed on the potty twice and even pooped there. You don’t know you are younger than your siblings; you assume you are one of them. When we play Monopoly Jr or Sorry, you stand by with extra pieces and sneak them on the board to clack them around whenever you get the chance.

You both love and torment Isaac in equal measure. He is very patient with you and sometimes even plays along.  You sit on his lap, pat his blondish head, and climb all around him as though he’s a recliner himself.

Mommy can tell you no all day long, and you obey, but if Daddy tells you no, you fall to pieces, melt into a thousand tears, and run to his arms.  Daddy has your little baby girl heart in his careful keeping. Thank goodness.

I’m grateful for you.



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