Banana

I panicked yesterday.

Savannah asked for a banana, much like she does every day. She said it in her peculiar little way, with the last 2 "a's" pronounced like short "o's", as if she originated from a European country.

And then the panic hit as I realized that I couldn't remember how she used to say it. It used to make us laugh so hard, and without me even realizing it, she stopped saying it like that one day. I asked Ricardo if he remembered. He didn't. Then - relief! - I remembered. She would bounce her tongue between her lips and say, "I want a lub-lub-lub-lub" (just try it...you'll see what I mean). We thought it was the cutest thing ever. And we didn't even realize when she stopped.

Such bittersweetness, this growing up business. How proud we are when she learns something new, when her pronunciations become clearer, when she comes up with something clever on her own. But each success and milestone means that she is leaving something behind, something so precious and fleeting that we probably won't even remember most of the things that brought us so much joy.

And so that is the reason for this new blog. Just a daily (ok, maybe just weekly) record of those things I don't want to forget. I will warn you of possible boredom - stats, sayings, pronunciations, things I think are cute. Things that would likely bore others that are not so in love with her to tears.

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She is into praying for our food lately. Ricardo will start, and she cuts in immediately with "I can do it, I can do it." And then she launches into something like this:

Dear Jesus, thank you for food, bless it to my bo-dy, thank you for daddy's work,and his church, and for Mommy's cake, and the red and green (the cheesecake squares I made for the Christmas Cookie Exchange, which she was so convinced was my birthday cake, and still gives thanks for to this day), for my eggies and blueberries....

And then Ricardo, whose own eggies are getting cold, cuts her off and says..."and thanks for the food, in Jesus Name, Amen!" And if she's not done yet, she continues on with the prayer even as she forks food into her mouth.

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We have been half-heartedly trying to break her of the thumb-sucking. I say half-heartedly because there are times when she is out of control crying from exhaustion, and I tell her, "Just suck your thumb and be quiet for awhile!" Nice, huh? But then other times, I will tell her that she's a big girl, that she's 3 now and that 3 year old's don't suck their thumb. And she will think about it, and take her thumb out.

But then at nighttime, on those evenings when we have just recently had the talk, she will say pleadingly, "Mama, I suck my fum?"

And I'll tell her, "No, baby. No more thumb."

"Please, mama! Please can I suck my fum?"

Oh, it kills me. Really it does. And so I tell her, "Ok, just a little bit. Not too much."

And with great satisfaction, she plugs it into her mouth, and all is right in her little world.