We can play picnic in the playroom, or dolls, or play dough. In church today, Maddie leaned over and smashed her mouth right into my ear to whisper, "Hello Kitty, upstairs, playroom." After a full body shiver, I passed the message on to Alli.
I love to watch Maddie throw a tea party. She is so serious about it. First, you have to put the teapot under the play kitchen spout. Then you bring it back to the table and fill the cups. This is done by picking up each teacup and hanging it upside down on the spout while making a shushing noise. (Since there isn't any liquid involved, nothing spills). Then the guests arrive, and she divides up the food. "Hungly, mama," she'll say as she puts the plastic chocolate bar on her itty bitty plate.
Her vocabulary is growing every day and my favorite laugh of the day is listening to her sing "Give Said the Little Stream" before bed. "Seennin seennin all a day..." Maddie-speak is always entertaining and cute. "O-lo-me" means, "I just spilled food all over me," and "hose me" means "pick me up."
When Alli was born everything was scary and new to me. When she was a baby, she cried, and I would panic. It was like every moment was a test. "If I can't stop her crying in the next two minutes, I have failed as a human being..." She cried a lot, so there it was. I figured I was a failure.
But this so called failure has also been one of the greatest lessons in my life. You can either walk around all the time thinking you're incompetent, or you can move on. I learned from Alli that I don't have to take myself so seriously all the time. Gasp, I'm not perfect? Oh, no, other people can do things better than me? Sometimes you have to let go of it all and laugh. And then cry. Then repeat as necessary.
As I look back on Maddie's first two years of life, I can see where I've grown, and how we've all enjoyed the moments more. I don't worry myself as much. All I can say is, "Sorry, Alli." I guess someone had to break me in.