"Can I have a kiss?" and she leans in, mouth open, and kisses me on the lips.
I am in the swimming pool, and she is pouring little shovel fulls of water over my head from a bucket on the side, laughing hysterically at each one.
"A baby kangaroo is called a joey." Bounce bounce bounce goes my knee. Flap flap flap go her arms.
"Say more. What do you want? Tell me what you want." "moe!" And she claps with pride as she realizes that she said it, not signed it.
I wonder where she is, and peek around the corner. There she is, waiting, looking, hoping I will see her at the bottom of the stairs. As soon as I do, she squeals and high-tails it up as fast as possible in a very precarious game of tag. Good thing the gate isn't open often.
We eat blue cheese. Or brie. Or pepper jack. Or goat on crackers before dinner, and she wants some, and asks for more, and does a little dance when she gets it.
"Mampa!" "Niy niy niy." "Moe!" "burrrrr" she speaks, and we listen.
My little Penelope. I love that girl.