Isabella has this way of kissing me. she cannot just kiss me; she needs to make a full on production of it. she first kisses my left cheek (which she pronounces sheek), then my right, then my chin, my nose, and finally, my forehead. It’s a routine that comes in the morning, usually, and leaves behind a cream cheesy souvenir on my freshly made-up face and, sure, some mornings i’m rushed and i just wish she’d hurry it along a little bit so i can get my ass out of the door. But as i sit in the car and wipe the cream cheese off of my face i can’t help but smile.
Isabella pronounces the word cucumber wrong. she says “cu-muh-ber” i am 99% certain it’s because that’s how my Pilipina nanny pronounces it too.
Isabella is my first real cuddlerslashsnuggler. There’s nothing that makes her happier than to crawl in bed with me, while donning a princess nightgown (they are all the rage these days) and “snugglebumming” with me. i swear. that is what she calls snuggling.
Isabella is Indiana’s best friend.
Isabella thinks frogs are just about the greatest things EVER created.
Isabella could medal if farting was an Olympic sport. she is a champion.
Isabella can recite – line by line – the words to the entire Enchanted movie. and the Spongebob Squarepants movie.
Isabella says awesome things like, “the floor is wet because i had to wash my leg because it smelled like emily’s feet”
Isabella plays by herself. she’s my first child to do that too (sigh…it’s because she’s my third, isn’t it?) She will sit and play with her dollhouse for hours. or barbies. or read herself a princess story. or do a puzzle. or play inside of an empty box simply for the shits and giggles.
Isabella loves DJ Lance Rock. probably more than a 3-year-old should love a man in an orange jumpsuit.
these are things i don’t want to forget. EVER.
There will be a day, in the not-so-distant future, when she longer pronounces cheek as sheek, when she no longer wants to kiss me even once, let alone a five-peet. There will be a day when she doesn’t want to snugglebum anymore. There will be a day when she won’t get such enjoyment out of empty boxes. There will be a day when she no longer thinks farts are funny (unless she’s anything like me who thinks that farts are ALWAYS funny)
but until that day comes, i will hold her close and take my hugs and kisses. with pleasure.