I’m apparently not very good at telling the classics without something to read from. I just ended the tale of “Snow White” thusly:
… and the Prince kissed the sleeping Snow White, like a big ol’ creeper. But it was okay, because she woke up and…wait, what am I teaching you? Not okay. Bad touch. Anyway, they got married, and she was a princess. The end.
I may also have described the villain as “a mean ol’ queen b.”
Maybe I need a book for this stuff.
Two years is such a short time. But also such a long time. Two years is long enough to go from tiny infant to little lady. From high-pitched newborn cries to complete (if not always grammatically correct) sentences. From 21 1/2 inches long to fully three feet tall, all long limbs running at full speed.
Two years have taught me about princesses, dinosaurs, and choo choo trains. About running through sprinklers, grapes cut in half, and all the words to all the songs in Frozen. About patience, compromise, humility, and love. So much love. She has transformed me entirely by love.
Happy birthday, baby girl. These two years have been the best.
Zooey has started this thing where she takes me or her dad by the hand & makes us come over tho where she wants to sit and play blocks or color or whatever. We are not there to participate, just to watch. If I try to color, she takes the paper away. If I start building a block tower, she takes it apart. She did let her dad help her make a play food sandwich this morning, so maybe I’m on some kind of punishment. I don’t know.
So when she came over to me this afternoon and grabbed my hands and said, “out out!” I figured she was going to lead me somewhere to watch her transfer crayons from one box to another (she does this at least once a day). Instead I got up from my armchair, and she let go of me, and promptly gave my seat to Bob, the stuffed leopard.
I definitely think I’m on some kind of punishment.