#lovember 27

I love that she doesn't walk, she struts. I love that she sings, everything, all of the time. I love how fickle she is - everybody is her "bestest friend in the bestest world", until the next day when they are nothing to her. I love that she has fire in her belly and wickedness in her eyes. Speaking of eyes, I love that they change colour - some days blue, some green, some grey. I still haven't worked out whether this correlates to what mood she'll be in. I love that her moods can swing from complete elation and bursting with love, to absolute, uncontrollable fury - I can relate to that. I love that for all her fury, she can still recognise when she's lost the battle, and shrugs it off as if she couldn't care less. I love her insistence that she is Big, except when she can't be bothered to do something for herself, and then she's Little. I love that she wants to know everything, about everything, all of the time (I love it less when I'm driving or on the phone. Or on the loo). I love that she has Tourette's when it comes to dead relatives. I love that she splashes through muddy puddles wearing tutus. I love that when she's not stomping around the house like a baby elephant, she's a silent ninja. I love that she has her very own sense of style, even if that involves wearing stripes from head to toe. I love her burgeoning love of shoes. I love that she still wants to be so close to me it feels like she's trying to climb under my skin. I love that she's under the mistaken impression that she can read. And that she knows the alphabet. I love that she she thinks chips are merely a vessel to eat tomato ketchup with. I love her fierce independence. I love that instead of an imaginary friend, she has an imaginary dog. I love that she tells me I look beautiful, as long as I'm wearing a dress. I love her complete girliness. I love that she's funny, even when she's being a complete and utter nightmare. I love that she's never asked me for a baby brother or sister, most likely because she knows how much fun it is being the youngest. I love her pout. I love that she might look like her dad, but on the inside she's a mini-me. And mini-granny. And in fact mini-almost-every-female-relative-I-have. I love that she genuinely believes that everybody puts up Christmas decorations to celebrate her birthday - and that she comments on how nice of them it is to do that for her. I love that from time to time I get a glimpse of the woman she'll become (and I can pity any fool who gets in her way).

I love the Maddster.