Later on, you were upstairs on the futon, I slipped away to bring you some water and came back to find you sleeping, again. Oh, I could eat you up, I love you so.
You are a mama's girl, one hundred percent. You stopped nursing just a few months shy of your third birthday and not because you wanted to. You have the most beautiful smile, reminding me so often of my mom. You prefer to draw on yourself over drawing on paper. You love to show us your "tricks", preforming yoga and gymnastic moves with straight legs and pointed toes, entirely of your own creation. You are stubborn as a mule with mad negotiation skills. You know how to get your way. We often joke that if we had to guess your future career, you would be a lawyer and a tattooed, coffee-drinking yogini on the side.
(This next photo is deceiving. Juniper had turned away from the camera and you had just reached up and pinched her chin. You think it's funny and she's getting ready to tell you off.)
You don't like any toys, to speak of. If you are playing quietly alone, it's because you are smearing hand lotion all over the bathroom, breaking into the medicine cabinet, drawing on yourself, cutting your own hair, or scattering dog food over the house. At the toy store, you'll choose "Gallatic Ooze" over any toy. You'll play pretend with Juniper almost endlessly. But you love to just do what we're doing. If I were to show you how to turn on the stove, you could single-handedly prepare scrambled eggs and toast for our family. You love to help cook, mix essential oils, feed the dog, work up elk meat, re-load bullets with pops, work the garden with me.
Over the last year we have come to realize how much you are like me in personality and Juniper is like pops. It's almost creepy. You have a logical, organized mind. You will sit and thread macaroni noodles on a string until you run out of string. You will be a knitter, I am sure.