Evie never stops. She never even slows down. She runs full-speed through each day. The other day GaGa was over and she said "Evie, rest for a second. Take a breath." Evie kept going, up and down on the couch, 'round and 'round the living room, dragging book after book from the book bin and pushing her baby stroller through the kitchen. She didn't - couldn't - heed GaGa's advice. This is my daughter, and she gets this energy from her father.
This energy is bound to get her into a few scrapes, literally. She points out her boo-boos to me several times a day. Her knees are skinned up in multiple places from falling in the driveway. Her elbows are red. Even her big toe is scabbed because she slammed it in the door of the Cozy Coupe. She often confuses a freckle on her thigh with a boo-boo, and includes that in the mix too. She proudly shows them all off: "Boo-boo. Boo-boo. Boo-boo." She'll even point out your boo-boos if you let her.
The boo-boos are on permanent display because Evie is afraid of Band-Aids. I bought cute, colorful Dora Band-Aids but she's not interested. I think she associates them with shots in the doctor's office and she wants no part of them. So the boo-boos are showing all the time, and Evie can't help but tell you about them each time they catch her attention.
But I don't mind the endless boo-boo show because of the kisses. This is new. In the past few days, when Evie sees a boo-boo, she kisses it. She kisses the mosquito bite on my foot, and the scar Daddy has from when the cat scratched him. She kisses her own knees and her little freckle. It's the sweetest sight. I know I'm doing something right, because my tiny baby girl already knows that a kiss will make anything better.
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