two and half.

She's two and a half
with a little belly and strong limbs.
Her favorite way to express herself is to yell NOT FAIR when something doesn't go her way.
She doesn't snuggle, but enjoys a good tickle - until she says no. Then I stop.
Her best tv show was Sarah and Duck, now Llama Llama. Fruit pouches and tor-tee-yas an'cheese hold sway, eaten every day. A game of hand pancake or High-five-Kaboom is still a joy to her.

When she gets hurt, she still runs to us, showing off the offended appendage, but never to kiss it better. A rub or a pt maybe, but never a kiss. A bandaid for the slightest bump. She talks to my friends now, instead of flashing them a stink face.

We watch a lot of tv, and play with scissors despite my admonishments. The shoes she wears are too small, but she can just fit them, and woe betide you if you cannot find them.

Her tantrums are like flash floods, starting with a crash of limbs and wails and ebbing in to long minutes of howling in to the carpet.  She'll find my cell phone on my desk, rushing it over to the tune of "Momma! You fone!"

She tattles on her sister, and won;t let anyone tell her what to do. Some might call her in the midst of terrible twos - what with the tantrums, the sudden running off down the aisle at the grocery - I see a growing babe. She's feeling out her boundaries for sure, expressing herself. She gets irate if not allowed to pick out her own snack from the box, or fork.

That can be frustrating, specially when it takes five minutes to find the perfect green straw in a jar of them. But I remind myself: You're helping a small person to be a person. Wait a minute before you sigh. I tell myself this as I wait for her to select the best spoon from the cup.

Patience I tell myself. Patience.