She remains the most big-hearted person I know, despite her pint-size stature. While these days find her easily frustrated and not always as tolerant of baby pests as we'd like her to be, when you get down to the nitty gritty, she's got a heart larger than any other person I know. She's full of love and compassion.
She so wants to do everything Alena does, and most times manages to copy her older sister's accomplishments. And while she can be a monkey in a china cabinet one minute, she has a timid side about her when she's presented with unfamiliar surroundings or people.
Last week at her two-year check up, the nurse at the pediatrician's office asked if she has a vocabulary of two dozen words. Check ... she can say guacamole. The nurse went on to ask if she can put two or three words together to form short sentences. Check ... I think "shake your booty" qualifies.
I will never forget sitting in the ob/gyn's office for my six-week postpartum visit with tears in my eyes as I confessed to the midwife I didn't "feel the connection" to baby number two that I did instantly with baby number one.
"What is wrong with me?," I can still hear myself asking with my heart breaking that I even had to ask.
"History," she said. You don't have history with Alivia like you do with Alena. Give it time, was her advice, and in six months, when you've developed some history with her, you'll laugh that you sat here and asked me that question, she said.
She was right. So very right, right, right.
As days turned to weeks and weeks into months, Alivia and I developed our own relationship that belongs only to us, and my love for her is unmatched. She's got her very own place in my heart, reserved just for my pixie and never to be held by anyone else. And right next to it is a spot where I secretly admire her unique spirit (of which I am envious on a daily basis) and wish that it's never broken.
And now you're two.
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