Sugar and Spice

10 Mar

Whine: I’m not sure how Lil’ Sis knows about the Terrible Twos, but she does. All day today I kept hearing emphatic variations of the same thing. “I. Don’t. Like. Church.”  and “I. Don’t. Like. Cars.”  and “I. Don’t. Like. Pizza.” (who doesn’t like pizza??)

Cheese: At least she’s using appropriate sentence structure.

The first thing people notice about Lil’ Sis is her hair. Her fiery orange hair. In fact, it was the first thing the delivering OB noticed before she was even all the way born. Now that is some red hair. And after people stop me mid-aisle in the grocery store to tell me how pretty her hair is, they quickly follow that first observation with a correlating second. “Red hair. Got a temper, doesn’t she?”

She does. But it rarely shows. Most of the time Lil’ Sis is sugar. You know as in sugar and spice and everything nice. . . She shares her toys with her cousins, and tries to make peace when tempers flare.  If Big Sis is sad, Lil’ Sis is the first to run to her aid with a blankie and a hug. And best of all, she insists on helping me unload the dishwasher.

But occasionally Lil’ Sis is spice. And by spice I don’t mean cinnamon. We’re talking cayenne. Possibly tabasco. When she was a little baby, people would ooh and aah over how sweet and mild she was. The nursery workers thought she was a dream. But Mr. Dad and I knew better.  At home we called her “Wild Thing.” She was very adept at letting us know when she was too hot or too cold. Her lion’s roar was just a little louder and more intense than all the other kids’ (it’s not a ten, it’s an eleven).

And today, as she sweetly helped me in the kitchen, all sugary and sweet, hints of her spicier side slipped out. She toddled to the dishwasher and handed me the spatula to be put away. Except I put it in the wrong drawer. And boy did I regret it. That sweet little angel hollered and yelled at me in righteous indignation until I put the spatula in the exact right place.

I love her sweet side. I really, really do. I mean, who wouldn’t like a kid who happily (and very accurately) unloads the dishwasher? Watching her gently tuck her baby dolls into bed or look in every room until she finds her sister melts my heart. And we die laughing every time she runs out of a room with her purse and waves as she says “Berightback.” But her spicy side is nice, too. I know it sounds nuts, but that little extra oomph in her cry yell when someone she likes has the nerve to leave our home to go to their own is pretty endearing. And it shows how fiercly she loves. Her indignation over not getting to do something herself makes me chuckle (well, sometimes). At least I can be reassured that Lil’ Sis will someday (probably sooner than I’d prefer) be an independent woman. But mostly it’s the way she attacks me when she hugs me and the way she dances her heart out to Farmer in the Dell that I like. Because what’s life without a little spice?



Everything nice?

That's what little girls (and wild things) are made of.

So I’m sending a birthday roar to my little Wild Thing. I love you, Lil’ Sis. The day you were born (although it was VERY long) was one of the best of my life. I cannot wait to see how you grow and change and make me crazy over this next year. Happy birthday to you. And just because you’re so darn cute, one more picture.

All dressed up (well, almost) and nowhere to go.

3 Responses to “Sugar and Spice”

  1. rachelle March 10, 2010 at 3:35 pm #

    yay! happy happy “coley” i think v is following in her not so mild footsteps.

  2. wee March 11, 2010 at 10:31 am #

    Happy Bday Chloe!!!! It’s a whole new world when you’re 2 🙂 sar, love the pics!!


  1. Cast of Characters « A Little Whine and Cheese - April 12, 2010

    […] Lil’ Sis: My fiesty little two-year-old. Alternately sweet/sensitive/tender and opinionated/independent/dramatic, we are entirely out of our league with her. She spends a lot of time following Big Sis around and trying to smother Brother Bear with snot-laced kisses. Before she systematically emptied each and every egg into her mouth. […]

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