Reese is like the comedy and tragedy faces of a play. One minute she is walking around happy as a lark, the next she is screaming in agony of only the most wronged human on the planet. I wish she could give me a head's up when the storm is beginning to blow in, but perhaps the lack of communication is the cause of the storm. Either way, I need a helmet, and I need it five minutes ago.
Tonight she wanetd spaghetti but she didn't want it on a plate.
She wanted to go outside but only if she could have a cookie. (I can thank her father for that)
She wanted me to fill up her empty shampoo bottle with water but she didn't want me to hold it.
She wanted to open the dryer door but close it before I got any clothes in. Then she wanted it open, then she couldn't get it open so she laid on the floor and cried until I opened it. Then she did it all again.
Oh Reese, she is a mess. But she is quite funny most of the time too. We had a family party this weekend and I think she kissed everyone there. She loves her new shoes and she keeps looking at her feet checking out how pretty her toes are. She lifts my shirt to "ticky, ticky, ticky" my belly button. And if there is a dog in a five mile radius you can bet there is a little girl panting her head off because she loves them so.
So sure, she wears the tragedy mask as if she were made for the part. But the comedy mask, well, it trumps all. One laugh from that little stinker and Dustin and I look at each other, grin, and wonder, how did we ever get so lucky?