Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
(I know these are words and Wednesdays should just be pictures, but I just want to explain that Larry moonlighted in an orchestra pit for the musical Chicago for the past month so as the acting single parent of the household, pictures, blogging, email, leg-shaving, exercise, and all other activities were pretty much on hold!)
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
This past weekend, Abigail had a wonderful visit with her Uncle Dean (my brother) and Aunt Kim (his wife). Kim happens to be Korean, which in Abigail's eyes means the two of them are the same. Though I thought toddlers are color-blind, Abigail is drawn to women with olive complexions and black hair.
Also, Abigail seems to have a 6th sense about family too: without knowing what "family" is or having words for it, she is drawn to members of her family, even though they all live in different states. It probably doesn't hurt that my family spoils her rotten, with not only gifts, but also bucket-fulls of attention, devotion, and playtime.
So, we had a wonderful weekend with Dean and Kim. Abigail played hookie from day care on Friday so they could play with her. She came down with a cough and ear infection that evening and went to the doc on Saturday morning, so Saturday was a day of indoor play, rest, antibiotics, and a sick little kid. Even though she was more sick than we have ever seen her, Abigail still WANTED to be happy, to play, to have fun. She is such a good kid. When she began feeling a bit better, we took Abigail downtown to see our favorite part of the city, and we took her putt-putt golfing.
Anyhow, the point of this entry is to talk about how amazing it is to watch Abigail learn and soak up truth about the big world around her, but that at the same time, as she learns about some things, it brings her sadness and heart-break and it is difficult to watch. For example, she knows she loves her family. She loves when they visit her, dote on her, make her laugh.
But since my parents' visit this past summer, she has figured out what "bye" really means. When we say "bye" to her at day care, she grins and waves madly, yelling "bye" and blowing kisses; we'll be back before she knows it. But somehow, when Grandma and Yinski or Dean and Kim get in a car and back out of the driveway, she knows this "bye" is different. It is a more permanent "bye" and she cries and adamantly shakes her head no, trying to throw herself out of my arms, tears streaking her face and striking her shirt. Every fiber of her being is trying to not be left behind.
Powerful emotions run deep in this kid. For the past 2 days, she has been sucking on her hand, crying silently, and telling people that she feels "sad" (a new word for her). I wish I could protect her from all of the "sad" so she could just be the happy little kid she loves to be.