She is fiercely attached to people and things. It is never--and I mean never--a good idea to try and pry that once white puppy from her arms. And let's not even talk about her reaction if you ask her to leave her dad for just a second to do something else. She stares you down until you retract your request. She loves her daddy. Every morning she wakes up disappointed to see my face first. She always asks, "Where's daddy?" I reply, "Daddy's at work." She bows her head and shakes it slowly, "Oh...daddy's at work. He come home soon. I miss him." And holding her on my lap I whisper, "Yep baby girl, he'll be home soon" and she squeals, "OH...HE BE HOME SOON!" Throughout the day she asks me over and over if daddy is almost home.
You'd think I'd be jealous, but I'm not. She loves me too. I catch her watching my every move--but not to as Mya watches--Elle watches in adoration. She loves to do what I do. Every afternoon before her nap, I sing her the same three songs: Twinkle, twinkle, little star, I'll love you forever, and I am a Child of God, and during each song I stroke her hair and forehead. She started doing the same thing to me nearly six months ago, and admittedly I crave her hair stroke. She is so sweet to me. I love how she tugs on my pants and asks me for a hug or a kiss. I love how she takes my face in her hands and says, "Watch me mama," or in an essence, "Stop what you're doing and pay attention." She is so good with this gentle, and sometimes not so gentle, reminder.
She is smart and cunning. She knows how to get what she wants. She is feisty. She is almost always the bully if a fight breaks out. Both Mya and V run away from her because she hits them constantly. But she is oh so good. She's like a good piece of dark chocolate that is a little bitter in the beginning but oh so sweet in the middle. I couldn't live without this little pookie in my life. That's what she is you know--she's my pookie.