I just put The Hurricane to bed. Tomorrow she turns the big 1-7 (in months, of course).
She was on fire tonight, running around the house like a madman, squealing, teasing the dog, and giving me raspberries on my belly after suffering through a round or six herself. She picked that up about six weeks ago.
At supper, The Boss mentioned how the wee one was in a copy-cat mood tonight, and sure enough, after I winked at her to tease her while she was eating, she flashed a double-eye wink (OK, it was a blink, but still, after a few tries, she managed to wink back).
Then, as I often do, I started playing a tune on the kitchen table with my fingers, with my feeting tapping along for good measure. Next thing I know, my little sponge is banging her hands on the table to keep the beat and kicking her feet too, which were dangling well above the ground, because she was on her Mom’s lap.
The kicker though, was when I was giving her a bedtime bottle.
To set the scene, I’m a notorious nail-biter. I’ve tried to quit, but it never lasts. My poor fingers are but nailless stubs, always bleeding and sore.
So tonight, I watched the baby take her bottle out of her mouth (while laying quietly in my arms), put her fingers in, make a biting/pulling-at-the-nail motion, pull her fingers out and look at the back of her hand and her fingernails with a ‘is there anything left to bite?’ expression on her face.
If she had blown on them to stop the stinging of a fresh wound, it would have been like looking in a mirror.
It’s stunning how much information these kids take in, even when (and probably especially when) you don’t think they’re looking.