Lately everything out if H's mouth has been about being a "big girl." A lot of "I can walk because I'm a big girl" and "I can do it by myself. I'm a big girl." Etc., etc.
I don't even call her a big girl. Mostly because it makes me terribly sad. Incredibly happy, too. She is growing into this incredible individual who is so empathetic, bright, loving, inquisitive, and independent. And I'm so happy to be a part if it.
But at the same time, she's right. She's not a baby.
She's currently playing the latest diddy on the piano that her teacher taught her yesterday. A baby sure can't do that!
But I won't lie. I deeply mourn her babyhood. It's like she was a baby and then I blinked. I hardly remember her being a tiny, vulnerable, non-walking, non-talking human being.
At least with B he still seems babyish to me, even though at 15 months he's technically a toddler. H just wasn't even a baby at that age. She was all ready speaking 2-3 word sentences. She had a vocabulary that included 100s of words. She was nearly potty learned.
She's a big girl, indeed, my tiny, big girl.
To be honest, it's a little daunting having such a "fast" child. Mentally, academically, even physically she is leaps and bounds ahead of most kids her age. This is neither a good nor bad thing. Simply who she is. But emotionally she is still just a 2.5 year old.
So although she has big words and beautiful thoughts and can connect with other people on an empathetic level even I don't have, she's still just two. Just my baby. No matter how many times a day she reinforces both through words and actions that she's a big girl, I'm still her momma. And I won't be fooled.
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