My sweet girl, Courtney, has been growing by leaps and bounds of late. I hate it. I ask her frequently to stop growing and she tells me she can’t, as long as she keeps eating she’ll keep growing. Touche my friend, touche. She did tell me the other day that no matter how big she got, she’d always be my little girl. Just like I’m still my mommy and daddy’s little girl. *Sobbing* my friend, just sobbing.
Four is a tough age. You aren’t big but you’re bigger. You can’t read but you’re close. You aren’t the mother to your little brother but you act like it. You miss nothing but you just don’t understand it all. You question everything but not in the same way your little brother does with the never-ending whys? It’s hard. I get it. Or I don’t. I try.
I do my best to spend one-on-one time with Courtney. She’s exhausting. She has more energy that my Jack Russel Terrier did when he was a pup. I can’t keep up. But I remember the best thing I can do for her is to love her and to listen to her and to be there. Really there. Because some days you leave the running shoes in the closet, you ignore the dishes in the sink, and you don’t do the sewing that’s pulling you in. You just be with your girl.
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