Dear Monkey

Beads clicking, swinging in all those intricate braids, all around your little head.

Dimples, deep and adorable in your butter-soft baby cheeks.

Tiny white teeth, perfect squares with just a little space between each.

Baby hands, baby energy, baby heart.

You wear Disney Pull-Ups and refer to Aunty as “My Aunty” and Papi as “My Papi” and you say my name like so many other little ones have.

You hold your baby- the one Aunty bought you last week, the one you call CeCe- like a real baby. Your two-year-old hip out, one arm around the doll.

Aunty showed you how to rock the doll, holding its cloth body against your chest, bouncing your knees gently. You thought it was hilarious, laughed as she cradled your baby doll. Then you reached up and took the doll, rocked her just the same, held her close.

The littlest sweet one to ever live with us, you amaze us with your size; a baby in so many ways. In the way you cling to my hip, 30 pounds of little wonder. In the way you sleep sideways in your toddler bed, blanket over your head, little bottom in the air.

In the way you hold to Glendy, legs wrapped around her waist, head on her shoulder, when she picks you up. She’s so small, it’s funny to see her carry you like that. But you’re small, too.

I’ve never seen her dote on another child like that before, but I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me. You invite love, tenderness, care.

You are sweet and innocent and have fit into our family seamlessly since the day you arrived.

You’re leaving soon, little monkey. You don’t know the signs, but there’s a new backpack in the hallway and Aunty’s begun washing, organizing your clothes. I kissed your cheeks twice tonight, again once more, because I’m not sure if I will again.

You astound us with your memory, tiny princess. Recalling seemingly insignificant tidbits long after they occurred, you notice details and remember them, storing them up.

So I think you’ll remember these weeks. These weeks of being the littlest sister. These weeks of following your Aunty around and wearing handmedown dresses and playing dolls and dress-ups and kitchen. These weeks of singing Jesus Loves Me and Father, I Adore You and talking, talking, talking at the dining table while we all passed dishes and you licked the peanut butter out of a sandwich.

I think you’ll remember it all.

And so will we.

20131121-000411.jpg

~Natalia

Advertisements

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: Safe Families for Children: A Life of Visits | Lead Me Where

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: