I realize I haven’t written much about Bee lately, about how she’s doing and who she is becoming as an actual human being.
I’ve been so preoccupied with writing about my pregnancy that I’ve put poor Bee on the back burner.
A few nights back as I was lying in bed, I thought about this and couldn’t settle my mind. I felt like, it’s not fair for me to keep her in the background, to keep this burgeoning personality of hers away from you all. Because the fact is, she is turning into the most interesting person, the most wonderful little girl… each day she gets better and better, and I want you all to know more about her.
NOTE: Though the below list rants and raves about how amazing she is – because guys, she IS – please don’t think of me as a disillusioned parent, someone who thinks their kid is the absolute cat’s pyjamas (pyjamas? pajamas?) and can do no wrong. Because, like any and every child, she can be difficult. Sometimes with a capital ‘D’. And as she comes into her own, with her strong personality comes an incredibly strong and impressive will. The “Terrible Twos” just a wee bit early, perhaps.
So in bed, in the dark, I was inspired to write down my motherly observations of this little creature, the little baby I brought into the world close to two years ago.
Two years ago. What the f***…..?
I grabbed my phone and began to type out the words that poured into my head as her face and giant mop of Mowgli-esque hair danced through my mind.
Below is what I wrote. Guys, this is a li’l bit about Li’l Bee, now:
She has a face that can’t hide her excitement, or her disdain.
She loves her family (every single one of you), as well as most cats she sees. She’s close with her teachers and school buddies, and is always concerned when one of them cries. “Happy birthday!” she’ll say to make them feel better, even when it falls on deaf, sob-filled ears.
She always has to have something in one hand – whether it’s a toy or a rock, a tissue or a crayon, she finds comfort in the feeling of having her hands full.
When she’s not talking, she’s singing. The girl loves a good song, warbling away so clearly to her favourites, “Baa Baa Black Sheep”, “Baby Beluga”, “Rolly Poly”, “The Alphabet Song”, “If All of the Raindrops”, and so many more.
She loves to dance and play her shakers, rocking out to Raffi or her music teacher Jennielea‘s playlist. It feels like such a blessing to have a child so full of song… the house is never quiet, in the best possible way.
Surrounded by dozens of books, she will always choose the Little Critter Collection. He’s her very favourite character, as he was mine when I was a child. I’m sure one day she’ll discover the joys of the rest of her library, but for now, she loves nothing more than to end her day with Critter and a snuggle and a song.
She doesn’t care much for TV, much to our relief. She does, though, delight in the occasional Thomas the Tank Engine episode (the original, Ringo Starr narrated version, natch), and seems to take comfort in Elmo’s World when she’s sick.
She seems to already love her brother. She climbs on top of me, lifts my shirt and smooshes her head into my belly and sings and laughs and sends mine and my husband’s hearts into loved-up overdrive. “What could be better than this,” I wonder.
She would always much rather be outside, galumphing through the streets collecting rocks and leaves and sticks, discovering how big this world really is.
She is hilarious and wild and adventurous – she makes us laugh till we cry, and though we hope to raise her to be thoughtful, we also want her to be free… so, by our own creation, she no doubt worry the shit out of us for all the years to come.