These days are fleeting.
You talk -- a lot. You're a girl in my family, after all. You love puzzles and do them well. You have a repertoire of at least 50 songs and you sing them all day long, sometimes changing the words to show me how silly you are. When you aren't singing, you are probably laying on your back, feet in the air, nigh-night tucked under your arm, thumb in your mouth, listening to one of your CDs and memorizing the words for your next performance at the dinner table (or the grocery store).
Your compassion and empathy are sincere. You rub my back, give me hugs and look at me with sympathy when I have a cold, my back hurts, or I'm just having a day. You take pride in the fact that you undoubtedly can make me smile and then you say, I make you happy!
When daddy and brother leave for the day, you immediately say, Now its just the two of us!
You still crawl in bed with me almost every morning. A luxury I had begun to grow tired of until the series of mornings when it didn't happen. I welcome you with open arms every time now-- as long the clock doesn't read 5 something A.M.
You dig wormies in the backyard with huge enthusiasm, you still say pasketti, waterwomen, and yes I don't.
I wish I could save a little bit of this you for later. Instead, I'll be the best sponge I can be and soak up all this goodness while its here. I love you, my Drew.