This Christmas did not prove this prophecy wrong; approach any photo album of any one of my family members, and you will find--at maximum--a mere three out of who-knows-how-many pics not centered around:
the sweetest, cutest, darlingest baby in the world.
We enjoyed teaching her many things this Christmas,
including but not limited to:
how to properly stuff a stocking
[which she understood the importance of immediately],
how to deal with the Kooistra gift-bag tradition,
how to unwrap that really-quite-unnecessary-but-oh-so-fun-to-chew-on wrapping paper,
and how to say thank you when you have.
We also felt it was important for her to learn
how to claim what's rightfully hers,
how to claim what's rightfully not,
how to de-ornament a Christmas tree,
and--just maybe--something else, which may or may not be:
Yup. She's one of us alright.
When the night was over she got tucked into her cozy car and soon into her bed, but--since I live that life of luxury--my time with her was not at an end.
Later that week I joined my parents in their babysitting task,
quality time that allowed this no-longer-so-bitty-but-quite-the-itty star to learn how to get the most out of Good Housekeeping,
that Grandpa sounds remarkably like her stuffed duck,
and that people really will sit and watch you play if you just:
remind them every once in awhile how happy you are to see them.
She has--without question--changed the history of this family for good, and she is--also without question--the sweetest star.
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