the girl who never gives up
The most determined person I've ever met still wears footie pajamas.
She runs and climbs and dances until she is weary to the bone, and then she requires a pacifier, a parent, a hug, a story, and a death grip on Favorite Blankie before she will simply give in to the exhaustion and go to sleep.
Whenever she starts with her urgent pointing and babbling, I only have to look at whatever her older sisters are touching or wearing or eating, and I immediately know what the source of her frustration is. Do the big girls have it? Then she wants it too. Climbing into our minivan unaided? Eating with a fork instead of her fingers? Getting her hair fixed every morning, even though her entire hairstyle consists of approximately two dozen hairs that I scrape into a rubber-banded top knot that sticks straight out of her head? Well, her big sisters do these things, and therefore Evie will not rest until she does them too.
She may weigh in at a measly 19 pounds--way down in the 5th percentile for her age group--but I don't think she realizes that she's the littlest. In her mind, not only is she a part of the gang...she's darn well going to be the leader of the pack. If they push her, she pushes back. If someone tells her no, she just screams back louder. Accepting defeat is never an option.
One sunny fall day not too long ago her sisters were riding their bikes up and down the sidewalk. Little Miss Evelyn, of course, required a bike too. So I pulled out the tiny wooden trike that she can just barely pull herself onto, and she scooted up and down the sidewalk, grinning like the sun.
Until she lost her balance on the uneven cement and tipped over backward, the tricycle landing on top of her. I could hear the thud as her head hit the ground.
I dashed over, scooped her up, and cuddled her poor little head against me. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," I whispered to her as I cradled her in my arms. "Oh, that must have hurt so much."
And then she pushed back from me. And squirmed. And wriggled until I set her down. She took a moment--just a moment--to steady herself, and then she took off again.
Tears were still running down her cheeks, but that didn't slow her a bit. She was chasing after the two most amazing people in the world: her big sisters.
She may look like a pretty little pixie on the outside, but I think she's actually channeling Winston Churchill on the inside. This kid never, never, never, never gives up.
She runs and climbs and dances until she is weary to the bone, and then she requires a pacifier, a parent, a hug, a story, and a death grip on Favorite Blankie before she will simply give in to the exhaustion and go to sleep.
Whenever she starts with her urgent pointing and babbling, I only have to look at whatever her older sisters are touching or wearing or eating, and I immediately know what the source of her frustration is. Do the big girls have it? Then she wants it too. Climbing into our minivan unaided? Eating with a fork instead of her fingers? Getting her hair fixed every morning, even though her entire hairstyle consists of approximately two dozen hairs that I scrape into a rubber-banded top knot that sticks straight out of her head? Well, her big sisters do these things, and therefore Evie will not rest until she does them too.
She may weigh in at a measly 19 pounds--way down in the 5th percentile for her age group--but I don't think she realizes that she's the littlest. In her mind, not only is she a part of the gang...she's darn well going to be the leader of the pack. If they push her, she pushes back. If someone tells her no, she just screams back louder. Accepting defeat is never an option.
One sunny fall day not too long ago her sisters were riding their bikes up and down the sidewalk. Little Miss Evelyn, of course, required a bike too. So I pulled out the tiny wooden trike that she can just barely pull herself onto, and she scooted up and down the sidewalk, grinning like the sun.
Until she lost her balance on the uneven cement and tipped over backward, the tricycle landing on top of her. I could hear the thud as her head hit the ground.
I dashed over, scooped her up, and cuddled her poor little head against me. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," I whispered to her as I cradled her in my arms. "Oh, that must have hurt so much."
And then she pushed back from me. And squirmed. And wriggled until I set her down. She took a moment--just a moment--to steady herself, and then she took off again.
Tears were still running down her cheeks, but that didn't slow her a bit. She was chasing after the two most amazing people in the world: her big sisters.
She may look like a pretty little pixie on the outside, but I think she's actually channeling Winston Churchill on the inside. This kid never, never, never, never gives up.
2 comments:
I think you just described my #3 he is 20m, going on 4 and 7. He is growing up way to fast.
Seriously, you just described my #3. :) Bella and Evie would make great friends. :)
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