Spirited

I think many people would call my daughter spirited.  I might agree most of the time, but there are definitely times when I would call her a pain in the ass. 

Like tonight, when I was trying to change a disturbingly disgusting poopy diaper and she kept raising her bottom of the ground, trying to roll to run away, and kicking me...all at the same time.

Or when I was trying to get clothes/shoes/coats on her and she's running away, flashing that impish smile.

Or when she looked at me and smiled as she dropped her Cheerios off her high chair.

Or when she whines and whines...and WHINES, wanting SOMETHING, but not telling me what it might be.  And then once I figure it out, she won't say please (which she'll do any other time).  So she starts to throw a complete fit.

All of these were redeemed, though, when she looked at me as I'm sobbing (she hit me pretty hard in the cheek where I'm still feeling some pain from having my wisdom teeth removed) and looks at me with big, sad brown eyes.  I ask, through my tears, if I can have a hug.  She obliged with the sweetest, biggest baby hug I've ever gotten. 

She also is willing to give just about anyone a hug if they ask.  This might become a little scary later, but for now it's incredibly sweet.

She might whine when I cut her off (from food, her bath, her playing), but within 5 seconds she's forgotten what she had been doing and stops whining.

Spirited, yes.  But sweet as can be and I wouldn't have it any other way.

(although I might have appreciated her sleeping through the night last night....yeah, I totally jinxed it)