Dear Maggie,
Today I was holding you while sitting at my sewing machine. When you reached for my sewing pins I calmly told you "no no" to which you responded as you kept reaching, "calm down mama." Then I took you to the swimming pool. You were a little slow to warm to it, probably because it was your nap time. But once you warmed I spent the next 20 minutes chasing your tiny little body around the pool. You wanted to go everywhere and do everything and the fact that you are only about a foot a half tall and most of the pool was over your head didn't matter to you at all. This was all spaced between the rest of the day that you spent attempting to morph your body into mine. When your brother was little I told him a story about traveling the world to see animals and when I talked about the kangaroos I told him that his mama wished that she was a kangaroo so she could carry him everywhere but he thought that was a silly idea (he never liked to snuggle). You on the other hand would love if I had a pocket to carry you around in. You want to be carrying everywhere. And when I can't carry you you want to hold my hand. I adore it. Sometimes I reach moments of wanting just a little breathing room. But mostly I just can't get enough of the feeling of your little body wrapped tightly against mine. That is, of course, all between your other moments of complete independence and attitude. There is a nursery rhyme that says that little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. I think this describes you perfectly. You are my little sugar and spice. And I adore you.
Love,
Mama
Today I was holding you while sitting at my sewing machine. When you reached for my sewing pins I calmly told you "no no" to which you responded as you kept reaching, "calm down mama." Then I took you to the swimming pool. You were a little slow to warm to it, probably because it was your nap time. But once you warmed I spent the next 20 minutes chasing your tiny little body around the pool. You wanted to go everywhere and do everything and the fact that you are only about a foot a half tall and most of the pool was over your head didn't matter to you at all. This was all spaced between the rest of the day that you spent attempting to morph your body into mine. When your brother was little I told him a story about traveling the world to see animals and when I talked about the kangaroos I told him that his mama wished that she was a kangaroo so she could carry him everywhere but he thought that was a silly idea (he never liked to snuggle). You on the other hand would love if I had a pocket to carry you around in. You want to be carrying everywhere. And when I can't carry you you want to hold my hand. I adore it. Sometimes I reach moments of wanting just a little breathing room. But mostly I just can't get enough of the feeling of your little body wrapped tightly against mine. That is, of course, all between your other moments of complete independence and attitude. There is a nursery rhyme that says that little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. I think this describes you perfectly. You are my little sugar and spice. And I adore you.
Love,
Mama
