Stockholm Syndrome

Pixie, as a two year old, you can be a real hassle. I thought when I shipped you off to Texas last week to stay with your grandparents I'd enjoy the break from your mischievous antics. I'd have chance to nap, shop, drool, or whatever else I thought I'd been missing out on. But much to my shock I spent a good amount of the time thinking of you. Your grandpa is bringing you back home tomorrow and it's a good thing too because I've been nostalgic the past few days. I find myself missing the weirdest things...

I miss chasing you across the park as you make a break for the sleeping homeless man because you want to "snuggle" with him.

I miss correcting you when you yell, "DANGIT" every time you drop something.

I miss coming in after your nap and finding that instead of sleeping, you have taken the afternoon to paint your entire body with poop.

I miss soiling all my towels to mop up the flooded bathroom after you have overfilled the bathroom sink yet again.

I miss you yelling from my room, "Don't come in here, Mommy!" and knowing that you are doing something awful to my stuff.

I miss you sternly sending me to Time Out when I don't have time to read a book to you.

I miss it when you make your stuffed animals hit me since you aren't allowed to.

I miss your screams of anguish if a drop of water gets in your eyes while I'm shampooing your hair.

I miss you grabbing the mouse during the final seconds of my eBay auction and making me loose the item I've been watching for seven days.

I miss finding your favorite books torn to shreds and then stacked neatly in the corner of your bedroom.

I miss it when you poop in the tub.

I miss it when you send yourself to bed early rather than eat the healthy dinner I've prepared.

I miss every little naughty thing about you, Pixie. Come home soon!