As a baby, Ellie was so calm and docile. We rarely heard a peep out of her. She was just along for the ride. She didn't have a choice really. By the time she came along, Mason and Hannah Kate were bigger kids and involved in school and activities and other things so we were, and still are, always on the go. She fit right in and never missed a beat, never complained.
And then she turned a year old. That's when Ellie woke up. All of a sudden, she was loud and proud. And she hasn't gone back since. She's the life of the party. She's very strong-willed, determined and opinionated. From the time her feet hit the floor in the morning until she crawls back in bed each night, she doesn't stop . . . doesn't stop playing, talking, pretending, imagining, asking questions, helping Mommy.
She loves her big brother. She really does. She wants to be just like him, wants to do what he's doing, wants to sit by him. Mason doesn't exactly appreciate this. I've tried to explain to him that he should feel honored that Ellie wants to sit beside him and order the same thing he does at the restaurant. But, instead, he schemes on how he can get Hannah Kate into the booth beside him first (sending Ellie into a fit) and refuses to put his drink order in until Ellie does hers first. And then she promptly changes it.
She also loves her big sister. They are constantly playing with their American Girls and dolls, constantly writing and crafting, constantly listening to music and choreographing dances, constantly playing "school" and "home." Ellie loves it all.
Her favorite color is . . . wait for it . . . PINK! But that comes as a surprise to no one. Her favorite cartoon is currently Mickey Mouse, but she also loves Alvin and the Chipmunks and Lion Guard. She loves swinging and riding her bike and jumping on the trampoline. It's hard to say what her favorite food is right now, but I think it might be red beans and rice. She also likes chili, spaghetti and chicken on the bone. And she LOVES to dance. When she grows up, she wants to be a cheerleader. (But today she told me that she really thinks she would rather dance.)
She also loves "school," and that's the first thing she wants to do when she wakes up each morning. She's been working really hard this year on numbers, letters, letter sounds and handwriting. I am determined that she's going to have neat handwriting, and she's going to write her numbers and letters correctly. I did not spend any quality time with the other two working on handwriting so I've learned a lot about that, and this is my chance. Ellie loves to write, and she's so proud of herself when she writes words. She's nearly mastered her name. This was a couple of weeks ago.
Yesterday Ellie walked into the kitchen while I was preparing lunch and asked, "When are you not going to be my teacher anymore? I'm ready to have a real teacher."
Well. At least she's honest.
And speaking of conversations with Ellie . . . the child is hilarious! I mean, I have NO IDEA where she comes up with some of the stuff she does.
Both of the following conversations happened last Thursday within ten minutes of each other. One day. Ten minutes.
One of the little girls in her dance class brought a little treat for everyone. Ellie had it in her hand when she came out of class. I didn't pay much attention to it. It was a little packet, kind of like the ones that fruit snacks come in. That's what I thought it was. I was in a hurry to leave and get home, but Ellie still had her ballet slippers on. Instead of stopping to change her shoes, I just scooped her up and carried her to the truck. She asked if she could eat her treat, and I told her she could. I put her in her seat, she buckled up and we were on our way. She made a comment about not knowing what her treat was, and I nonchalantly answered something about fruit snacks. She said it wasn't fruit snacks.
Me: Well, what is it?
Ellie: I don't know. It's like crackers.
By this time, I was stuck in traffic so I had an opportunity to turn around and actually see what it was.
Me: Muddy Buddies! Those don't taste like crackers! They have sugar on them. Ellie, I'll bet those are good.
Ellie: Well. They're better than bananas.
BANANAS?! I can't tell you the last time I bought bananas! Nobody in my house eats them, and I honestly don't think Ellie's ever even tasted a banana! And, if she has, I'm certain she doesn't remember it. Bananas.
And then she pipes up again.
Ellie: How old are George Washington's parents?
WHAT? GEORGE WASHINGTON'S PARENTS?! I mean, why does a 4-year old want to know how old the first President's parents are? We've never talked about that at all. As a matter of fact, it's been awhile since we talked about even George Washington himself. Last school year Hannah Kate and I studied him a lot. And he came up again a couple of months ago as Mason and I were studying the Revolutionary War and the founding of our country. We saw his portrait at the Hall of Presidents, but that was such a brief moment in time, and I can't even remember if she was standing with Mason and me at that time.
I'm not particularly proud of this answer, but by Thursday afternoon, I am. done. Wednesdays and Thursdays are so tiring and so long, and when we walk out that dance studio door on Thursday afternoons, all I want to do is come home and put everyone to bed.
I told her that George Washington's parents are so old that they're dead!
Yes, I did.
And everybody everywhere is so sorry my children are homeschooled! But, again, it was Thursday. And I knew I couldn't avoid it, couldn't ignore it. When she asks a question, she demands an answer, and she won't stop until she gets one.
She's asks what time it is at least ten times a day.
She asks if we're "going anywhere tomorrow" at least five times a day.
When she sneezes, if don't say, "Bless you," she immediately reminds me, "Mom, I just did a God bless you!" Every. time.
Oh, this girl. She's pure joy and life, and I'm so thankful the Lord knit her together in my womb for us. She has blessed our socks off. She's going places, this one, and I'm just along for the ride!