Myra is Five
Can I come here to spend time with this singular bright eyed version of Myra? She'd peek out from her bedroom door in the morning after dressing and making her own bed, to find me. I'd feel her whole weight sinking into my lap as she asks me for breakfast: yogurt with mini chocolate chips or pancakes, cut up, with whipped cream.
I know I would see stuffie spilling out of the bike trailer and balance bike haphazardly sticking out the back. She'd have snacks to the brim of a bowl. There would be an egg carton full of fresh eggs at her feet ready to deliver to her bike trail Grandparents. Our bike ride would certainly include feeding the ducks and if she rides her own bike, we'd play astronaut best friends.
The 2-5 puzzles she's laid out are slowly loosing their pieces to passing feet. She never wants to put them away. Will the fridge still be buried behind her art work? Depictions of us in the garden, or bowls of cheese, or flowers, and bike rides.
How many pretzels and chocolate chips will I find strewn in her wake? How many times will she chase Winters to cuddle and sob that he is too quick.
How many questions will she be able to ask before we have to cut her off? She is so verbally expressive. Constantly processing through speech. She naturally repeats back exactly what you said to make sure she got it right.
I know she wont eat dinner. Not if its noodles, or new.
She'll want Dada to put her to sleep. He's more gentle and patient with her dawdle. They'll record a library book (or 5) on her yoto. I'll be summoned to snuggle. I'll lay down next to her, her arms wrapped around my neck and face, and I whisper "I'll cuddle as long as you want" and Myra will balk at how I too need to sleep and surly can not spend all night with her. Then within 3 mins she dismisses me. She sleeps with headphones on and Damon's voice going on and on in her ear. Sometimes she franticly wakes searching for the soothing sound when it is lost.
Will I get to watch her bounce along in lieu of walking, Mama Moo tucked under her arm. Still unable to unbuckle the bottom of her car seat, still bothered by bumps in socks and shoes that fuss too much.
How many times today will not knowing what to do next would make her come undone. She shuts down when overwhelmed and wont talk.
Myra at 5 can't ride a two wheeler. Loves to dance and play babies. Cleans herself up, often without being asked. Is so so so so so so so so so stubborn. She is not a quiet or reserved child.
She asked for tights for her birthday, and was genuinely delighted to receive them. She asked for a rocking horse all year long, and finally got one from Papa David.
We love you Myra Moo.
Photo Dump
Comments
Post a Comment