She’s cute, right? Everyone she charms says so. Dressed all in pink, carrying her purses, waving hello, and blowing kisses to those she meets. Lots of curls, lots of giggles, just a precocious and adorable two-year old girl. Right?
No so fast.
This is the same girl who joyfully gave her brother a haymaker to the peppers when he spread his arms to ask for a hug.
This is the same girl who approached her now fetal-positioned brother with a furled brow of concern asking, “Awwww, what’s wrong, baby?”, only to fwap him in the head with a Candy Land box.
This is the same girl who (thanks to her cybergaming older brother) casually refers to her family members as “Noobs”.
This is the same girl who turns off my open laptop and points at me shouting, “You got Pwned!” (Yeah, I dunno either, but it comes from her older brother).
This is the same girl who took a permanent marker to our dining room table and followed the vandalism with a broken-English rendition of Dora the Explorer’s, “We Did It!”.
This is the same girl who stuffed our cat in an Amazon.com box and sat on it with a fake display of concern, saying, “Oh no. Kitty all gone!”.
The list goes on and on and on.
But this is also the same girl who can’t fall asleep unless she kisses me good night.
This is also the same girl who loves to snuggle as we watch Wonder Pets, Diego, Dora, or “Scooby Dooby Dooby”.
This is also the same girl who repeatedly says that her brothers are her “best friends”.
This is also the same girl who squeezes her nose at a pungent smell (which is often emanating from her anyhow) and says, “What’s that noise?!”.
And finally, this is also the same girl who makes us laugh and cherish her existence every single day.
Dastardly deeds included, I wouldn’t have her any other way. She’s our little miracle. The only problem is that I think she knows it. And it’s created a human being who feels she can get away with anything.