Oh my gosh, my sweet Kiki Shrieky! How have you grown so much? I want you to stay this age – all toddler-y and nap-y and full of emotion and only a couple of handfuls of words.
You are the star of Brannan’s school every morning. When you walk down the hall, all the older girls have to stop you and give you a hug and say “ooooooohhhhh myyyyy, she is sooooooo cuuuute!”
They gush over you and you squat down because they squat down and it is the cutest thing in the world. You give them hugs, even though you have only met them in the halls of Brannan’s school. That’s ok though. They are so nice and just want to compliment you. You love the compliments and you tuck your hands underneath your cheek (a la Toddlers and Tiaras like I taught you), and it is the funniest thing to me – but I’m guessing no one else gets the gesture because they are all from Australia or England or some other foreign country that doesn’t get the extreme opportunity (sarcasm) to see that show.
You are pretty opinionated – even though you don’t have many words.
“No” is something you have mastered.
That second eye-tooth is still trying to make its way in.
You can buckle your own seat belt now and even say the word “buckle” which is pretty amazing to me.
You are so cute and every older French woman and man will stop to pinch your cheeks or say “bonjour” to you – and you try to reciprocate with your best “onheur” (but super quiet – and I have to prod you). They still think you are cute as a button and often go on for minutes to me (without me knowing what they say) about how cute you are (at least I am guessing).
You are growing so fast and you have to do everything your brother does. You have to do everything I do too. That means drinking out of my water bottle, opening doors, eating my food.
You still won’t let me spend more than a minute on your hair, though.
I swear, I just wanted to TRY to braid your hair today! I got through half a ponytail before it turned into a scream/cry fit. Most of it on my part. heh.
And, of course, whenever it is “down”, you are always trying to sweep it out of your eyes. I swear, I can’t win with this one. You have fine hair like your mommy, and when it is freshly washed, it just flies right into your eyes and catches onto those beauteous eyelashes.
Still, you are a spitfire – much more so than your brother ever was – maybe it is because you have to compete with him. Not sure. Regardless, I’m always breaking up screaming matches and tiny tussles.
He loves you though – and we all do.
Happy birthday to my little firecracker shrieky Kiki!