A Mexican Called Me Fat

God knew what he was doing when he gave me my baby girl. He looked down from the heavens, saw that my Type A personality was doomed for disapointment in a world that doesn't have a concrete set of rules and instruction manual. And so he gave me her, a surprise, to soon, in my opinion, after her big sister.

The first year I wanted to send her back. She wouldn't sleep, wanted no one but me, would hit a newborn baby if I dared hold it in my arms. I would call my mom in tears, not knowing what to do. Why was it so hard?

And then, something happened. She got her voice around 18 month and it was if her world opened up - no longer holding her back. People would laugh at this tiny little bundle of energy speaking complete sentences. Engaging it conversations. She had so much she wanted to say. She had arrived. She is headstrong and witty and unafraid to speak her mind. She is downright silly. She has a temper and isn't afraid to fight. Timeouts and screaming don't do a damn bit of good. She will listen when she is ready.

She licks the table at breakfast and if you question her, you are the crazy one. Because there is syrup on it. Well, that makes sense now. She is always ready with an answer when her by-the-books big sister asks a question like "Where are all those birds flying Momma.?" "To Hobby Lobby," says Weesie. Of course that's where they are going. She pretty much has an answer to everything in fact. Why the bad mood Weesie, "A witch turned me into a toot." Good job shifting the blame.

But her tough attitude is just a cover for her gentle heart. Unafraid to speak her mind but afraid of anything that moves fast or goes to high (including car washes), she cried when her sister wanted to jump on an aerial trampoline. She is kind, and gentle and sticks up for her family.

And she keeps me on my toes. Looking sad one day I asked her what was wrong. If anything hurt. She replied, "Yes Momma. My feelings." My heart broke. "Why do your feelings hurt?" She replied, "Someone called me fat." Now I was mortified, afraid of what the pre-teen and teen years had in store for us. "Who called you fat?" "A Mexican." And now I could laugh.

She will read a book cover to cover making up the words. While in the bathroom. And at school, asking classmates to bring her books.

I thank God everyday for sending her to me. As we get closer to her turning 3, I am amazed at the little person she has become. I wouldn't trade a sleepless night, a public meltdown, a dinner-time battle, a battle of wits for anything. She is the person I wish I could be more like.