July 9, 2010
Her special gift is narcolepsy.
We are going to the dinosaur extravaganza at the Union Station today for her birthday. She is very concerned that there must be a styracosaurus AND a triceratops. Yes, she still primarily plays with animals while a legion of baby dolls are tumbled in heaps like corpses in the toybox and my dreams of teas with American Girl Dolls in Chicago lie dormant, shining with hope. Once in a while, she will swipe a herd of Kai-Lans, a gang of Polly Pockets or a posse of Barbies and declare "Mama, I need my HUMANS". A guest star billing has its perks. Little does she know that later today, she will add a band of fairies to the mix.
When the house goes quiet, we know this can mean only one of two things - Arun is preoccupied with a toy, book, show, or game while Anjali is either asleep or in trouble.
Lisbeth Salander a run for her money, but she saw me and began furiously wiping at her lips between giggles. Her Goth days are still to come, I suppose. She is the child who will bring me to me knees. She is also the child who introduced me to the wonders of the Magic Eraser.
Still, my favorite is when she gets angry and puts herself in time-out. That would be the one where everybody wins. The picture above is the result of her hapless brother offering to help her with some golf ball action at Wonderscope. The nerve of him, right? She stormed out, quietly muttering "I do it MYSELF." and sat outside the door. No coaxing from me could convince her to join us.
On the 4th of July she decided to do a magic show for us on the driveway. She wielded a burned-out sparkler stick with an aura of power and solemnly declared "I am Condition Anjali! Abracadabra! First, I am going to disappear myself!" She ran behind me, giggling. I replied "Condition? I think they have a cream for that." More giggling, then a voice demanded "Stop talking, Mama. You're a FROG." Lance Burton she is not, but she makes up for it in personality, sans the Kentucky drawl.
Every night, she reaches for me and nuzzles my face with hers as her fingers reach for my stomach. "Mama, I want your tummy." And then she whispers "You're my best mama." and I whisper back "You're my best Anjali." She lifts her head and replies "No, MAMA, I'm your best GIRL."
Happy birthday, Anjali Lilly. You are complete and utter trouble yet worth every skip of my heart.
Thank you for making the last of my dreams come true.