Dear Caralie

I just want to write a few things that I know someday (and more likely sooner than later) I will forget and would like to remember.

Like how you wear your ruffle socks. It drives me crazy: you like to fold your socks down, but then flip the bottom up just a tiny bit so that the ruffles are standing at full attention at your ankles instead of laying down like normal. You insist on this. And I laugh.

Or how only recently (as in, this week) did you realize that root beer is root BEER, not BEAR. It finally makes sense why you named that fuzzless pink wonder Root Beer.

I mean Root Bear.

And how you love to "borrow" my camera and take silly photos of yourself:

(with your Gene Simmons tongue),

pictures of your drawings:

(like astronauts),

and pictures of your sweet little notes to me:

That just makes my day.

And I can't believe I didn't write this in your journal (I'm so, so bad about writing in that thing - hope this blog makes up for it...), but you broke your left wrist when you were a little over two and a half. You fell down the last 3 steps at Glenda, The Sewing Lady's, house and landed on your wrist. Nani and I took you to the children's ER at Kennestone hospital and you got a splint. The nurse gave you Tylenol with codeine and holy cow did you get high! You were laughing and giggling like I'd never seen before or since.

Here's a video of your take on the experience:



I especially like "My real crying." You always used "my" in place of "I" at that age. For example, if someone asked how old you were you would say, "My two my old." Hilarious. It drove your daddy nuts and it took another year for him to convince to say, "I'm three years old."

And one more thing. When I was pregnant with you I would have daydreams of a chubby blond baby laying in the crib. However, two weeks before you were born, I started imagining a tiny brunette baby laying in the crib. And what do you know? You were a tiny brunette baby! I wish I had a photo of you with your fuzzy, Jack Nicholson hair, but we didn't have a digital camera back then and our scanner isn't working.

But the funny thing is, you eventually morphed into the chubby blond baby:

So both my "visions" came true. Just thought I should share that with you.

Well, those are the things that come to mind at the moment. My guess is Dear Caralie may become a regular post, seeing as I have the worst memory in the world.

Love you, baby girl.