The day Brinley turned two years old, her will emerged. And it was a strong one, that will. No surprise there, it seems to be how we breed them.
Two is such a wonderful, yet hard age. She is SO cute and her vocabulary and level of understanding grow everyday, so fast I can barely keep up. But then there’s the tantrums, the potty-training gone awry, the middle of the night wakings and the frustration she feels from not being able to do everything her older sisters can.
Perhaps it’s the fact that she is our last baby, but I haven’t been quite as bewildered by her take at the Terrible Twos since I know she’ll outgrow them, and I know it’s the last time I have to do this. So I am taking the time to really look at her soft, two year-old thigh rolls, the drop of drool on her chin, the funny way she says some words, the way she snuggles into my arms at night and sings “You Are My Sunshine” along with me.
She might be a bit of trouble, but she’s also a whole lotta sweet. That also seems to be the way we breed them.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ve got a house filled with strong and mighty girls. Watch out, world!