Tag Archive | Daddy

Can I Fix it? Yes, I Can!

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I love Bob the Builder, and I even have a little wooden toolbox of my very own that I can use to fix my toys. I usually just fix little things because I am a little person. When I broke our big speaker, though, by hitting it when I was playing with my Nerf sword, I got to fix that all by myself.

Daddy asked what happened after he got home, and I didn’t say anything… after all, I know when staying quiet is a good idea. Mama ratted on me, though, so my cover was blown. I jumped in then, saying, “I can fix it! I can fix it all by myself!” I went and got the tape and kid scissors. Daddy helped me cut the tape, then I put the front of the speaker put on just right and put tape all around it to make sure that it didn’t move.

After I was done I stood back and admired my handiwork and was so proud. After all, I had never gotten the chance to fix something without help. I think that I did a great job for a 3-year-old. Even though Mama and Daddy chuckled (and Daddy had to come back to make slight changes to my fix), I think they thought that I did, too.

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I am the Picture of Beauty… Thanks to my Daddy.

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When I woke up this morning, the first thing that I wanted to do after getting dressed was the have my Daddy fix my hair. My Daddy is the hair-fixer-upper in the family. Mama says that she is worried that she will hurt me while pulling it up, so she lets Daddy take over on that one. My Daddy is so, so gentle with his soft brush that I hardly feel it, and he sings and talks me through while he is getting my hair all pretty. My Daddy, he can be magical sometimes, especially when he sings to me.

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There he is working that magic. It may not stay completely put together all day (because really, I play rough, and when I am busy being a toddler hurricane, my hair is the least of my worries), but it still stays away from my face, and my Mama says I still look like a beautiful princess even when it gets a little messy. After all, isn’t that what life is? Getting everything all put together just so you can work to mess it up again?

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There I am, already working to undo the beautiful work that Daddy did. Play hard, but always look absolutely gorgeous when you do. 🙂

It’s Daddy Car Party Time!

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Sometimes, when it is just me and my Daddy in the car, we can be silly. Daddy will make funny faces at me, and I can play and dance and shout-sing and laugh, and we have such a good time. My Daddy sent Mama this picture to show her just how much fun we were having shout-singing and laughing together.

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Sometimes though, all that shout-singing and laughing and dancing, with the buzz of the car and the noise of the road passing under our little car can make my eyes so, so heavy so, so fast that before I know it, we’re home and I don’t remember getting there.  Oh Daddy, you’re so good at wearing me out with the highest level of fun that a little girl could ever have.

I Can Touch the Stars in the Sky…

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Every night right before I go to sleep, my Daddy rocks me and then puts me down to “touch the stars.” We go into my little room and my Daddy counts “one, two, three” with me, and then he lifts me high, high, higher, all the way to my ceiling, which is covered with little stars that glow for a while in the sky of my room before I dream my night away.

 

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I really can fly with the help of my Daddy. He flies me all around my room every night to touch the little and the big stars while I hold my leg up like Supergirl. I am, for that moment, SuperDorian up in that sky, flying as fast as light. Then, after I have touched the stars all around the room, my Daddy lies me down gently in my little bed with all of my buddies, and he snuggles up and helps me to sleep (because I have been known to be a late night singer and jumper and I need a bit of calming to help me along).

When I drift off, I look at the stars that I got to touch in my little sky, and I fly up there again and again, with my Daddy right by my side.

I Love my Daddy….

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And my Daddy loves me.

The World is a Beautiful Canvas… Big, Big Crayons All for Me.

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Daddy and I went to the store the other day and bought crayons. We had crayons in the house already and I have seen my big sisters doing something called coloring where they make pictures pretty, but I have never had them in my hands for very long before because Mama told me that I wasn’t quite ready for the little ones yet and that I would crush them with my little hands. Daddy got me big, wide ones made for me. They are something called “washable,” which my Mama says is really important because I don’t know what to make art on and what not to make art on yet.

They fit my hands just right, and I can put them against the giant paper pad that Daddy bought and color appears. Daddy sat and showed me how, and he even drew me a picture that Mama read and told me says “I love Dorian” with little sunshines and hearts on it.

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I don’t really get how to do it yet, though, because when I put my hand against the paper I get little lines that you can barely see, and when Daddy or Mommy does it, they get bright and darker color on the paper. I sat right on the table, my favorite place to sit (which worries Mama silly) and I drew. I didn’t make any pictures, but I did get some scribbles on there for all the world to see. Daddy said that it is beautiful because all art is beautiful, and it is my creation so he loves it… even though it is barely there.

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I love my new crayons most, though, because I can put them in the box and take them back out again, over and over and over. I can also scoot around with them in my hands and they are easy to hold on to. Later, when my hands work more like I want for them to, I can make crayon art like my big sisters, and I will make beautiful pictures like the ones that I see in my dreams. Until then, my crayon friends, you can nap in the box and I will get you out to play and to practice.

Can We Do It? Yes We Can!

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You work too hard Daddy, all the time, and you deserve a nap. Don’t worry, Daddy… I’ve got this. I have seen Bob the Builder, and I have watched you fix lots of things around the house, so I can do it. I’ll fix all the things. There is only the one issue of me being in the stroller, oh, and me not being tall enough. If you just lift me up, Daddy, I’ll bang on it really loud, and rest assured, it will be all better. Love you, Daddy.

I am the Queen of the World and the Captain of my Ship: The Cart Commander

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I have always loved going to stores with Mama and Daddy because I get to get up high in the big cart. I sit in the front like I see all of the other little people do– sitting right in front of their Mamas and Daddies. I have a little strap that puts me in place, but it isn’t like the straps that go all around me like in the car or the jogging stroller—there is just one of them, and I am more free.

I discovered that I can turn backwards, then slide like a snake up, and I can stand the other way. Mama and Daddy seemed pretty stressed by this, and I heard them say the words “fall” and “not safe.” They turned me around and told me to sit on my bottom, but I am not to be deterred. Daddy should know that because my Granny says that he was just like me when he was really little and that he climbed and was something called “stubborn” and that he had a “red-headed” temper when he couldn’t do what he really wanted to do. You’d never know it now… Daddy seems to never have a temper with me.

I went back and back to standing, and they kept putting me back down again, but I won because I never get tired of trying no matter how much I am set back. They held their hands out to keep me from falling, and I spread my wings and I flew. I shouted and sang because I was able to fly like the airplanes that I see in the air above me. I heard Daddy singing something that said “My heart will go on and on” and Mama laughing and saying the word Titanic, but I have no idea what that word means. All that I know is that I flew and I will get to fly again… if the strap is just loose enough for me to wriggle myself free. Until next time, cart ship, until next time my friend.

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Little Pancakes All for Me

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My Daddy makes pancakes on Sundays. I love pancake day because they smell so wonderful in the kitchen. I don’t know what patience is, but Daddy tells me that it means waiting and not getting upset about waiting. I don’t get it.

Daddy makes sure that pancakes are out as fast as he can because he knows that I don’t like hungry and hungry doesn’t like me. He is quick like my doggie Mr. Django when he is running for a treat in the kitchen, and he goes all over the place in order to make food happen.

Daddy always gets my pancakes out first, and he even makes little pancakes just the size of my hands for me so that I can hold them and get pieces with my four little teeth that Daddy tells me looks like a beaver. They sometimes even have shapes in them, and today they had Little D’s because that is what they call me… little D. I eat and eat and eat until my little belly sticks out, and they give me fuel to play for a long time.

Sometimes little things can show love, and my Daddy’s little pancakes are full of love and love and love for me. Thanks for being our food hero, Daddy.

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My How You Have Grown… Please, Please Slow Down

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I am writing this letter to you, Dorian, my beautiful and miraculous daughter. You are over one, and I began this blog to share your life with others, but truly, I began it so that you could have something that you can look back on when you are older. It is a documentation of your life. It is your life. It is you. It is the essence of your personality, which is ever growing. Every passing day, you grow. You get bigger, you get more confident, you show new talents.

You are a bright light, so blinding that I can hardly comprehend it. You are a gift. You are a blessing. You are my life. You are your father’s life. You are loved. You always will be loved and supported by both of us, and you will always know love. Not a day goes by that you have not, and not a day goes by as long as we are living and breathing (and even after, dear, we are still beside you for all of your days).

You are our last. We are raising four beautiful, intelligent, wonderful people, and you are the last of those. We have the privilege to see small people become bigger ones, to become more self-assured, to become… adults. That is why I am writing you. You are now one, only one year old. You will, though, be two before I blink, then three, then four. You will walk. You will speak in complete and well-constructed sentences (I am an English instructor, so you are assured of this as I am a grammatical perfectionist). You will learn history, science, math, English, art. You will have a favorite. You will have favorite teachers and favorite music. You will dream. You will dream of what you can be, and you will yearn to achieve what you wish for most. I hope nothing more than for you to get it. All of it… the world in the palm of your hands. You are a ball of potential, and you have the Earth as a canvas in front of you for you to create what you wish from it. You do, and will, make the world more beautiful because you are in it.

You will hurt. You will fall, you will bleed, you will get bruised. You will cry from that pain, and inside I will hurt each time that you do. You will hurt on the inside, deep down in places where no one can really see, but I will see it, and I will hurt with you. You will be heartbroken, you will suffer loss, you will have disappointment. That kind of hurt is so much more painful than when you fall—and I will want to protect you, but I won’t be able to. I can’t shield you from the world. You have not suffered these things yet, but you will. Your Dad and I will be right there with you, and I can promise that we will hurt more than you each and every time. You may not always choose to see it, but we will be there right behind you, holding you up.

You will grow. Despite your father’s and my best efforts, you will grow faster than I can comprehend. You already are. Your personality shows in everything that you do—you gorgeous and blindingly beautiful girl—and you are well established already in your ability to see the world for what it truly is… and it is a beautiful world if you look through all of the ugly presented to us each day.

Please, my sweet girl, please don’t grow too fast. I look at you every day with joy and happiness, with a love that is so deep and engrained in my soul that it hurts sometimes. Your Dad and I can do many, many things, but one thing that we can’t do is to slow time down. I wish more than anything that we could. My wonder, my life, my child… if I have one piece of advice for you, it is to slow down, when you can, when you know the difference between acting as a child and acting as an adult. Slow down and continue the path of innocence. The life you lead as an adult will be waiting for you, but the life you had as a child you can never, ever get back once you walk past it.

I love you with every single piece of me… not one speck left.

Love always and always and always,
Mama

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