For as long as I can remember talking, even before that when I was using my hands to communicate, Momma and Daddy have taught me to say “please” and “thank you”. Whatever. I’m not sure I fully grasp these concepts, except that I usually get what I ask for when saying “please”, and the “thank you” just naturally comes out now…kind of like pee. But what does “thank you” mean? Can someone help me with that?
Momma tells me she’s thankful for Daddy. She says she is thankful for our whole family. She’s thankful time brought us together, and that she gets to be my Momma and Lyla’s Momma. (She was MY Momma first.) She tells me she is thankful for our house and the amazing trees, flowers and land we get to live around. She seems really thankful for popcorn and chocolate.
I think I get it. Kind of. These things make her happy, make her smile, and make her look calm. (Well, sometimes we take that calmness away, but mostly she seems calm.) So I was thinking about things that make me smile, that make me feel loved, and that make me want to say “thank you”.
Here are a few of the things that take up the most room in my heart.
I feel like saying thank you for:
Lyla– believe it or not, since she is here to stay, I found a way to find her extremely cute, fun to play with, and it is fun to make her laugh. Besides, I can see how valuable she’ll be in my future shenanigans.
My lovey– even though I know it is really Momma and Daddy that make me feel safe, the lovey just helps when they aren’t around. It gets me through the night, through car rides, through visits at other people’s houses. Plus, it doubles as a cape.
Field Adventures– Hey, what can I say? I have surrendered to Momma’s work and all things camera because these field adventures let me hang out with Momma and Daddy, AND see amazing new things.
Books– Do I really have to explain this one? Just keep ‘em coming. Thanks.
Loving Big People with Rules– Yea, that’s right. You read that correctly. I feel like saying thank you when my big people use periods at the end of sentences that set rules, AND stick to them. At this stage of the game, I know what I’m supposed to do and not do, but I’m still gonna test you. I don’t want to be in charge, even though the Toddler Oath and Creed will never let me admit that. Believe it. I will scream and throw myself against whatever object is closest when you ask me to do something as simple as picking up my cars for the night. I won’t show it, but your calm, firm, consistent, and loving response lets me know I’m safe. Lets me know I’m loved. Thanks for that. I promise, some day you’ll be proud of my tough spirit.
I feel like I should end this, mostly because I don’t have the attention span to continue.
So this will be continued…
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