You never keep your shoes on in the car. I don't even try anymore. I just put them on when we get to wherever we are going.
You have spunk. In frustration you slapped me in the face this week. But then you said sorry in that sweet-little-in-your-face-whisper that you do. It in no way sounds like 'sorry' but it feels like it.
On top of that you take your little hands and place them on my cheeks and give me kisses over and over again at bedtime, so, really, my cheeks have nothing to complain about.
You surprised me with your ginger hair. You surprise me everyday with something new you have learned, or with the realization that I still need to learn myself.
You want to be heard. You test me every day with the level of your voice. But know I will always listen, even if I ask you to speak softly.
You are determined. We talk about being aware of edges often. Edges of benches, beds, chairs. You always get back up after you fall.
You are loving. Your sister's name is your most said word. Hug is your second.
