A little about Sarina

She thanked me today...
for changing the sheets on the bed
for removing her socks
for changing her diaper
for taking her out to play

"Thank you, Mommy," she says. "Thank you for changing the sheets."

She wants to know what rhymes with "Joe" and "Blue," and where Meatball the Lion went, and if Aunt Peeka will come to our house soon. She wakes up from her nap and recaps her day for me down to the last detail-- such as that she was sitting on the Skee-Ball machine when she did poopies in her diaper.

"I need to be held in the carrier," she says, and "I need my hair"-- which is actually my hair, which has been her security blanket since she was born. She tugs on my hair and wraps it around her fingers while she sucks her thumb when she needs comfort. So I haven't used hair products in almost two years.

She made her public singing debut at my brother's 30th birthday party, using the Elvis impersonator's microphone. She sang "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" and didn't want to stop, so she just kept repeating all the verses. "I'm never gonna stop the rain by compwaining" is my favorite part.

She recites her own versions of poems and stories. "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had chicken nuggets..."

When she bounces in the inflatable bouncer with her 8-year-old friend "Miss Gina," she likes to sing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" at the top of her lungs. I've never seen her be physical with another child anywhere except in this bouncer, where she actually grabbed a little girl by her waist and tackled her backwards because Sarina was having too much fun with her and didn't want the girl to leave. "You get back in here, Miss Ashley!" she said, giggling. She believes that everyone who enters the "Mommy and Me" building is "Miss" Somebody, even when that person is 4 years old.

Her favorite colors are pink and purple, and she's also growing a fondness for red.

She likes songs about rain and night. When she watches the tap dancing number for "Singing in the Rain," she exclaims, "That's Gene Kelly!"

She likes to strum my guitar when she sings, and she's delicate enough that I can let her do so.

Lately, she begins every other sentence with "Actually." "Actually, let's go to the bakery." Nearly every story she makes up involves a bakery. Every now and then she switches it up and makes the setting a deli or a diner instead. You'd think this means she's a big eater, but she's not. I go through every trick I know every meal just to get her to eat a decent amount. But she has a serious sweet tooth that I have to keep in check.

She likes to climb hills, play with Play-Doh, paint, wear lip gloss, jump on the bed, comb my hair, pretend various large and small household objects are Mommy and Sarina and make them "hug," and make snowballs.

After using the big girl potty for the first time, she announced, "I need a crown."

Several times a day, she tells me, "This is gonna be great!"

She is the coolest girl I've ever met.


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