9 March 2018

We had a mommy/daughter date at Mario's after school.

I bought you a chocolate phone and you had a whole conversation on it.

You watched the volcano experiment at the science fair.

Chocolate face after chocolate ice cream.

You are in mouse class at school.

Abby Jones, you are a barrel of fun. You have these adorable ringlet curls all around your head, and in the heat and humidity they are even more defined. You like to laugh and make other people laugh. Sometimes you just stick out your booty at me and point at it because you know it will make me laugh. You call the national anthem "antional anthem." You call Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood "Neighbor Tigerhood." Your teachers say that you are a good girl, and that you express yourself very well. One time they wrote in your diary ("diarrhea") that you are not afraid to express yourself in front of the class. You and I are buddies. You have turned a corner with your swimming! You are a fish. You love to jump in off the side and "swim to mama." You are still petite but you can run fast and keep up with the big girls. You still say, "I'm shy of Anyango."

I'm not gonna lie, you give me a run for my money. You love to think of everything you know you can't do and ask me to do it. "Can I have soda for breakfast? Can I have sweet for breakfast? Can I wear long sleeves to school? Can I wear Kikal's dress? Can I use the glue stick?" etc, etc. I have told you not to use the glue stick because you went through two of our glue sticks just by scribbling the glue all over random paper. One day, Papa had told you you couldn't have anything to eat, so you came and asked me for something to eat. I didn't know what Papa had said so I told you you could have a cracker. You got the cracker and went and ate it right in front of Papa's face. You are full of spunk, and I love you so very much.

I pick you up from school at 12 every day and we have lunch together, many days just the two of us. Then we read books and nap together. You love the mouse book and the book about the tree with the flashlight. When I hug you at night, you squeeze me tight because you don't want me to go. I treasure these precious squeezes deep in my heart. You are starting to draw more and scribble less. You can draw a sun!