Chirp

Greg read an article that said the average kid laughs 400 TIMES A DAY, while the average adult is lucky to laugh 20 times.

How did I get from a being that kid to where I am now?

RE aims for sprinklers on our bike rides. I avoid them.

RE likes to get wet at the car wash. I hate it.

RE skips everywhere. I walk like an old man.

RE can swing on her stomach. I tried it last week and caused some immediate reflux and possibly punctured my pancreas.

RE did 38 consecutive somersaults down the big hill at Thanksgiving Point. I did three and had a pounding headache the rest of the day.

RE did the stair stepper on Level 20 (the highest level) for 20 minutes and literally beamed and giggled, "Does this thing go faster?" while I was on the machine next to her sweating to death at Level 7.

RE eats sugar. A lot. She didn't miss one day of school last year and never gets sick.

RE loses sleep over excitement for her birthday and major holidays. I sleep just fine.

RE sings more than she does handstands, and she does a handstand every twenty seconds.

A Red-eyed Vireo sings more than 20,000 SONGS A DAY. RE must be that bird.

I always tell Greg that all is well with the world if RE is singing. Her singing is a sign that she is happy. She gets it from Greg. Greg's mom, Mother Bear, says that Greg would sing for hours in his crib. He still sings a lot, mostly to Kelly Clarkson or that annoying song that starts "If I die young bury me in satin...". Sometimes at dinner Greg and RE have entire conversations in song. While I love music, I only sing aloud if I am alone in the car as public solos are my one fear. (Once I subbed for the Primary chorister and when I sang a few bars and the kids just stared at me my armpits had a let-down reflex.)

I feel like, at best, I chirp at life. I need to be more like my daughter.

*Photo caption: RE playing the perfect summer game/time-honored tradition that I played as a kid. You put every pair of underwear in the house on the ceiling fan, turn it on, and try to catch as many pairs as you can. I played this game with all of four of my siblings. We were creative kids. We also invented a game called "Sharky Sharky" that involved the sofa cushions as islands. Once my brother nearly split his head open on the edge of the pool table when he was escaping the shark. My mom must have loved hearing our games through the walls while she enjoyed a little personal time.