Friday, August 2, 2013


The captions for these photos are too easy. Just too easy. It would go a little something like this:
top photo: Henry: "Hi mommy! Hi mom, hi mom, hi mommy, I love you, hi mommy, pose!"
                 Layla: "You take out camera? You no ask permission? Bug NOT prepared.."
bottom photo: Layla (continuted) "..and now? I judge you."

This little girl just kills me dead. She drives me batshit crazy, I think that's important to note. We still haven't gotten the hang of correct behavior quite yet. For example, I'll hear a little ladybug jingle as she's running around somewhere she shouldn't be, and find her just as she's tearing through yet another garbage can, or pooping somewhere she shouldn't be. My girl loves to poop, plain and simple, and she'd prefer to do so on your wall, thank you very much. The legs of your furniture, the bottom part of your bedspread that's close enough to the ground to reach, those will do, too. When she hears me coming before I catch her, she zips past me, head turned the other way, eyes straight ahead, NOTHING TO SEE HERE, okay mom? She is whip smart. And a tiny devil.

But she is a mush. A lovey. A sweet little girl, who wants nothing but to be held and loved and relax in the knowledge that she is safe. She climbs up into my lap, resting her head against my chest, and looks up at me with so much love that I think I might burst. She gets yelled at all the time. I mean, all. the. time. And I find myself talking to her at night, realizing just how many times she'd been yelled at that day, telling her she's a good girl, as she nuzzles into my arms to fall asleep, laying just so that she's certain I can't leave her.

I wrote before about how similar we are (I mean, except for the pooping everywhere and eating garbage thing) but the longer we've been together, the more and more I see how very true it is. We even make the same little sighs and noises as we go through our day (no, but seriously, we do). We're both firecrackers, troublemakers, wily, free-spirited little girls. We just get that about each other. Determined to a point of recklessness. Seeking fun at all costs. More love than we know what to do with. Empathetic, but quick tempered. Fiery. Tough exterior, soft interior. And we both hop quite a lot. I remember when he looked at me, and then at her, and back to me, before smiling, "you two are so alike". I smiled, but didn't totally get it. No, I thought, it's Henry who is like me. And he is, my boy, my heart. But it seems as though my second kid has got just as many similarities, albeit different ones.

The other day, she bounced off the couch and started to play, as though this was an every day occurrence. She had never once played before (despite endless attempts). She understood fetch and tug-of-war and using her paws. She got in play position, and then...she started to play with Henry. Who has never successfully played with another dog. (You guys know I was crying by this point, right?) And then - her teeth came out, a sharp no! from me, and she was back on the couch, hiding, unsure. But the next day, she tried again, and again the next day, and now she plays. She had been watching Henry and I play all along. She had heard me explain and teach her. She just needed to do things in her own time.

After all, she is her momma's dogter.

No comments:

Post a Comment