About P

P: I eed fancies. My bum bum is anake. 

(translation: Mother, please locate me some appropriate undergarments. Currently, I have found that I am inappropriately attired for my day.)

You guys, P is amazing.  She is currently obsessed with fretty (pretty) dresses and wearing rina (ballerina) shoes, but I have luckily been able to stretch the definition of both of those words to their most extreme limits. She insists on buckling her own carseat (advance apologies for my 15 minute tardiness to all in-person meetings), and falls asleep at night clutching my old copy of Number the Stars. She dances everywhere she goes, gives the best huddies (hugs) I've ever had the privilege to receive (sorry Jim), and she is, quite possibly, the funniest person I have ever known.

Her current, post-bath move is to escape, in the nude, into the living room where she will slowly wiggle her tiny tushy at you while looking over her shoulder and with a sly smile saying, "bum, bum," in a slightly sing-song voice. (There is a distinct possibility that this one falls under the you-have-to-be-there category).  She tells jokes where, regardless of the set-up, the punchline in "tinky feet." What did I tell you? Comic genius.

Today, she fell asleep in my arms, her sweaty, heavy body pressed as close to me as she could manage, her head right under my chin, her ear on my heart, and her hand curled tightly around a fistful of my hair. Seriously, amazing.