TWO

We participated in the Hail Mary of cycles – donor egg – and by sheer luck alone, it resulted in a perfect baby girl.

She’s still perfect.

And funny.

And holy-hell-are-we-screwed smart.

She loves to have her toenails painted.

She hates to have her hair brushed.

She calls for me from her crib, “Mommy…mommy!” *pause* “MOM!”

Kor-corn is her lovie (unicorn).

So is Bunny. And Froggy. And Monkey. She covers them with blankets, and changes their diapers, and gives them time-outs, and puts them down for naps.

If you say OW, she will kiss you and ask, “Better?”

If her nose is runny, she’ll ask, “Keenex?”

She’s always asking to wash her hands (so she can splash in the sink).

She can put on her shoes and if she starts to put them on the wrong foot, I just tell her, “Other foot,” and she switches.

She eats like a horse, but I have to safety pin her shorts so they stay up.

She loves blueberries and strawberries.

She hates watermelon and cantaloupe.

She cries if something spills or falls down.

She cries when told she has to take a time-out.

She laughs when you push her real high in the swing.

She laughs when she goes fast down the slide.

I’ve been teaching her to answer, “How old are you?” with “Two,” for the past couple of weeks. Today I asked again. Today she answered TWO, and for the first time it was true.

Today, she’s officially no longer a baby.

She will always be my baby girl.

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