her voice. even her (knowingly) silly voice outbursts: mommy, listen to this...[cue squeaky, cartoonish babble]. we both laugh fully
her hands on her hips, bending forward, nub of her tongue poking between her lips, furrowed brow and an emphatic, "ummm"
her stirred up letters and words where instead of accident, we hear, askident and where "i'm a little tea pot" should end, we get an unexpected reprise. over and over
her squirms leave my arms empty, but the energy she has to shoot around the room is enough to wear me out just watching...and when the bumps and trips happen, then i get to hold her
her kisses are simple and sweet but always remind me of how much baby is still there with her softness and tininess
her stillness is nonexistant
her mama realizes she had more patience with the older one, but then recalls how fun (almost) three can be and becomes creative
her hands are so delicate and rest when my fingers tickle between daddy finger...mommy finger...brother finger...up to sister finger..down around baby finger and over her forearm and elbow
her musical, breathy song notes far out-weigh my seasoned voice, so i quiet down during "amazing grace" and allow her to take the melody, choosing words that sound similar to the ones only big people know of...the words that are more decorative and imaginative when used in an irregular place
her story telling is blossoming and become more complex
her sister adoration borders on annoyance to the older one and usually leaves all of the older one's dresses piled on the floor after being tried on a few times, knowing they are too big, but also super cool
her eyes still light up and she runs to hug me each time that we reunite (mostly): mornings, after school, after grocery shopping excursions sans kids
here is my audrey linda beatrice in a just a few brief thoughts; and with all little ones, can't be summed up with mere words.
my love, my beautiful one.