My niece Brooke is a little blue-eyed dumpling. By that, I mean she is an irresistable munchkin who I want to chomp and hug and squeeze and smooch to pieces. (Which is sort of how I react to dumplings.)
Brooke is now two years old. She can form sentences, and give commands, and ask questions, and can tell you when she's upset and even why she's upset. This is a huge improvement from a mere six months ago, when her best conversation skills involved accurately identifying certain colors, animals and people.
But now? Now this little chatterbox will invite you to "Come inside!" and "Sit next to Brookie!" and "Eat!" Its like her inner Italian grandmother has already taken over.
One of the most curious things about Brooke is her obsession with belly buttons, which she's had for the last 6 months. (The obsession, that is -- the belly button's been there the whole time.) Its likely one of the first things she'd ask you, to see your belly button. She plays fair -- she'll show you hers, too. But what she's really interested in is examining yours.
"Button?" she will ask, eyes wide and hopeful. A little pointer finger, slowly and carefully extended, will reach out and gently probe your innie or outie, whatever it is. And then there will be a moment of full-on ecstatic glee, when she clutches her hands to her face and sits up and grins like you just gave her a new puppy or something. And THEN, if you have a REALLY GOOD button, she will scrunch up all the muffin in your top and squeeze it like her life depends on it, and -- if you're really lucky -- even blow a wet raspberry on your belly.
Kinda like the way I act when I see her.
Hmm.
Ponder on that for your Friday Zen, and tell me what you discover.
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