Big

Karis never stops talking. Her lips simply don't stay closed long enough for her to take a break. She came out of the womb like that, her sobs deep and powerful. Her bedtime prayers are giant run-on sentences that start off reasonably with prayers for family members, then drift into prayers for random inanimate objects she can see in the room around her, digressing into a made up language with words like "tetch" and "ratcha", and then finally morph into questions such as, "Mom, do you remember the pink elephants we saw at Disney?" (Yes. And we're praying, remember?) Her friend's house was termed "adorable" yesterday, and when engaged in a discussion about God, she informed me, "We like sin." (Official family policy: We don't like sin.)

I never imagined I would be answering so many questions a few months shy of her 3-year-old-birthday. Most questions revolve around the names of people we come into contact with. What's the mom's name again? What's the babies name again? She rehearses the names over and over again, for days on end, until she remembers them. She just wants to know.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'm often exhausted by her constant interjections and nonstop babble from the moment her eyes open until...well, she even talks in her sleep. Truth is, I think she believes she's an adult like everyone else around her. She acts a little surprised when she looks in the mirror and sees a little kid standing in front of her. She'll even gasp a little bit and then say, "Cute!" (Confident.)

As we took our family walk last night, I watched her saunter down the street, too-long hair swaying from side to side, jean skirt bobbing playfully up and down with each step, and I was reminded of the awesomeness of parenting. Which awesome? Both, really. This is good and heavy stuff, parenting a little person with a big personality and zealous thirst for life.

But don't be fooled by her colorful vocabulary. No sooner will she use a big, made-up word like "unconstanable" to describe her nap than she'll turn to you tearfully and say, "Hold me." And I do.