She’s singing Cottleston Pie right now. Except that it sounds like “cottes and cottes and cottes and cottes of pie”. Oh how that warms the cockles of my heart.
She’s learned how to turn doorknobs. No longer a captive screaming for Mama, now she lets herself out of her room in the mornings and comes into mine where I’m cuddled with the baby in bed. I love it and hate it, this independence. But mostly I’m glad she can do so much for herself.
I love watching her read her books, seeing what she remembers, what she’s absorbed. She knows many of them by heart.
