Last night reminded me of her infancy. She used to get moving really fast, get stuck on something (usually a cabinet door), slow down a little, then she'd try her best to achieve her original goal (making her own eggs at age 2 for example).
Yep. Last night she did that. She started out at too fast a pace and nearly got sick running up the first hill. She walked it off, made her goal to beat one of "the mean girls" from school, and finished the race. I was right at the chute. She was breathing so hard. Almost gasping. She grabbed me. Then threw up on my feet.
This morning I told her, "You know, it reminded me of when you 'shared your love' when you were a baby. You would be so excited to see me, I'd pick you up and you'd hug me or just lay your head on my shoulder, and then you'd puke all over me. At your meet tomorrow, let's keep the love to ourselves, okay?"
She grinned.
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