We say, “Gwendolyn, let’s put on your coat.”
She says, “no, thank you.”
“Time to clean up your toys.”
“No, thank you.”
Each morning, she calls out, “Mama! I’m ready to get up! The sun is up!” She repeats this until we come get her. If you ask what she dreamed about, she’ll usually say, “about God.”
She wants to be a troll or a butterfly when she grows up. She loves her sisters dearly, and we’re not quite sure what she’s going to do next year when they’re at school. She speaks like a 5 year old, can recite most of “The Night Before Christmas,” and never wants to be referred to as a baby—and is apalled by the fact that she’s in the baby class at church. She always asks “why” questions, but makes you feel dumb if you ask her a “why” question.
“Gwendolyn, why are you being so naughty?”
“Because I am.”
“Why do you love noni so much?”
“Because I do.”
“Why were you crying earlier?”
“Because I was.”
She talks nonstop and we’d have a much quieter house without her, but she brings lots of joy and makes us laugh all the time.
We had our typical Babe’s dinner for her birthday, and she’s the first of our kids to actually do the chicken dance while they sang to her. She’s a ham.
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