Sabine, 27 months...
It's December and I've hung stockings that you keep trying to put on your feet and wear. (I did explain to you that it was a kind of sock.)
You display a huge grin every time I talk about Santa Claus. But every time you see him, you close your eyes and bury your head in my chest.
Every time you get in the bath, you lay down, make a fish face and pretend you're a mermaid.
When you hear music, you grab my hand and say, "Let's dance, mama," or you spin around by yourself until you lose your balance and fall down.
Now that you know I'm pregnant, you like to lift up my shirt and lay on my bump. You stick your finger in my belly button and say, "Hi, beebee."
You insist on choosing your own clothes each morning and night. This means you wear sundresses when it's freezing cold and tutus to bed.
You hate having your hair or your teeth brushed.
You attempt to use the toilet every two minutes whether or not you have to go just so you can get candy.
When you do go, you run over to me and say, "Proud of you, mama," every single time.
When you need help with something, you say, "Help you, mama."
Your favorite foods are cheese and spinach salad with blue cheese dressing.
When you're frustrated or something is not working the way you want it to, you say, "It's woken." Translation: It's broken.