So I’m sitting here, nursing Sophia, and in runs Bella, wearing only a diaper. She was wearing pjs last time I saw her. She’s carrying a pair of pink pants and saying, “Need help with the pants.” But then she plops herself down on the floor in the dining room and proceeds to pull them on by herself, even managing to get them up over her diaper, a feat she’s never managed before.
Then she runs back to her room for a shirt. When she returns with a turtle neck, I tell her she might want a different shirt and she runs away only to return wearing one yellow sock. I ask her where the other sock was and she runs away but comes back still wearing one sock. Oh well.
She seems to have now given up on getting dressed and has helped herself to a bag of cheerios from the diaper bag. I guess it must be snack time.
When I’m finally done with Sophia, I put her down in the swing and find a shirt for Isabella. Curious, I hand it to her; but she can’t manage to get it over her head by herself. She tries to put her head through the neck hole from the top. So I turn it around and show her how to hold it and she puts it over her head. She needs a bit of help pulling it over her face and then a little more help guiding her hands to the sleeve holes. I find a matching (sort of) sock and she sits herself in my lap but when I start to put it on her foot she grabs it from my hand. “Do it self,” she declares. And she does
And then as I fold laundry, she carries her folded pants into her room and places them in the proper drawer. They are no longer folded, of course; but they are at least put away. Then she finds her shoes and puts them on her feet, even fastening the velcro strips properly. Today’s one of the days she manages to get the on the proper feet the first time; but when she does get them on the wrong feet, all I have to do is say, “Other feet,” and she swaps them.
I can’t believe how independent my little girl has become. And will only become more so as time goes on. Last night she helped Dom scoop spices into the spice grinder—and then ran away when it started grinding because she hates anything that goes zoom. Soon she’ll really be helping me cook rather than just standing at the sink stirring bowls of water.
But I’m content to let her stay little as long as she wants. This morning at breakfast she wanted to sit in my lap and have me spoon her oatmeal and yogurt into her mouth. That’s fine too. All too soon, I’m sure, she won’t be wanting to sit in mama’s lap at all.
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