(August) Number nine

She's one of a kind.  She's spunky. And full of energy.  She's imaginative.  And cute and stylish.  And fun.  She's always fun.  She's sometimes naughty and mouthy.  And sarcastic.  And I wonder where the heck she came from and who's been raising her anyway?  Is she really my kid?  Ha.  Yes, she's often a mini-me.  And I cringe.  Because it scares the heck outta me.  She can be tough sometimes, but always sweet.  Well, okay, not always, but most of the time.  She cries easily.  She loves to give hugs and kisses.  She is a touchy, feely kind of girl.  She makes me laugh.  She makes us all laugh.  We laugh at her and we laugh with her.  Because she's funny and already quite witty.  She sometimes says inappropriate things at inappropriate times.  Sometimes on purpose.  And then laughs about it.  She loves babies.  And wants to have a dozen of them someday.  She goes full speed at most things she does.  And I cringe.  She loves her brother but can rarely be with him for more than ten minutes without getting into some kind of an argument with him.  No worries, she can hold her own.  She doesn't give in or give up easily.  But somehow she makes her stubbornness look cute.  She loves her daddy and loves to give him hugs and cuddle with him.  She's smart.  She's compassionate and despite her toughness, she feels what others are feeling.  She has a big heart.  And she's my baby.  And I love her.  I'm blessed to have her in my world.  And I don't want her to grow up.  But she is.  Sometimes she's just too darn big for her britches and other times she cuddles on my lap and just wants to talk and talk and be with me.  And sometimes she chooses to hang out with me rather than anyone else.  And it makes me happy.  I wish that it wouldn't end.  But it will all too soon.  And I can't help but feel a little sad about it.