Smelling like milk and sunshine, she crawls to me at the couch. Squeals, shrieks, hands over her head holding an imaginary blanket over her face. Another shriek yanking it down and I say There she IS!!! to be rewarded with grins as wide as the Mississippi. She's in my lap, a half second latch on for milk because what she wants is to snuggle under a blanket and have her toes tickled, for me to let her smack my hand with her little ones and say bam! boing! bam! boing! as she does so. I pick her up and find her toes are squishy with lint, puppy hairs, and bits of lettuce and begin to clean them GEEEAAIH she says, loudly. Bbbblahblahbbbblahaaaaaaaaa then in a deep, manly voice that has mostly bass habaaaaabbaaaa maamamam I kiss her forehead, twirl her single curl around my finger to make it loopy, she lies her head against my shoulder and sighs. Then, off again, to investigate the kitchen chairs, a piece of ribbon, the mail.
I love that.