This happy-go-lucky-yet-can-throw-a-tantrum-with-no-warning kid.
This sweet little girl who wants nothing more than your attention and your affection.
Our mornings are busy, but manageable, as long as we stay on schedule. But twice or thrice a week, I get about 25 minutes to myself for some morning devotion time, thanks to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, which Millie would watch all day long if we'd let her.
The other day, Mickey malfunctioned (I suspect that a certainly curly-haired toddler hit a random button on the remote). So I was summoned into the living room to fix it. Millie was on the couch, similarly poised to the picture above, as she not-so-patiently waited for the TV to come back on. She was squawking pretty good by now, yelling something that I couldn't make out. And, yeah, I was more focused on the TV.
I heard movement behind me but didn't think of anything of it until, just as Mickey came back to life on the big-screen, I felt two tiny little arms wrap around my legs. I looked down and she looked up, just beaming at me. Not because of Mickey - by now she'd lost all interest - but because she's a hugger.
She loves to be loved.
Her daycare provider and her teachers tell us frequently that she just casually will walk up to someone and just stand next to them, patiently waiting for something. As soon as they crouch down to tend to whatever she wants, Millie will just throw her arms around them and give them a hug.
One of the (many) blessings of a smaller town is how close everything is to each other. One block to my south is her preschool and one block to the north is her daycare. So twice a week, on preschool days, at 11:30 a.m. I got get her from preschool and bring her to daycare, just in time for lunch.
It's a little Great Expectations-ish: It's the best part of my day and the worst part of my day. She is thrilled to see me at preschool and then mad as hell at daycare, when I leave.
So a couple of weeks ago, I tried a little experiment. As long as she promised not to cry, I'd eat lunch with her at daycare. I brought my little salad and we ate, side by side, as she "bragged" (pointed happily) to all her little friends that her Mommy was eating lunch with her.
She thought it was the greatest thing ever.
Yeah, she still cried when I left though. Actually, a little harder than usual. So it was kind of a fail, but for those 20 minutes, I felt pretty good.
Well, I won't say much on this out of fear of jinxing it...
But so far so good.
We've been slowly tapering her off from her anti-seizure meds and are yet to see any signs of trouble.
We aren't quite to 50 percent, but we're close.
She's doing so great. Talking more, laughing more, running and jumping lots.
Last weekend, she spent about an hour just walking up and down our (very steep) stairs, all by herself, just to keep practicing and celebrating the fact that she is doing it, all on her own.
Our big girl.
Our little angel girl.