I remember my angst over my youngest baby last year or so, worrying about whether she will be normal, typical child. Turns out my fears are largely unfounded. She is a rambunctious little hellraiser, just like her older sister. Speaking in sentences, and signing a lot more. She’s tough, yet very much into being a princess. She loves to dig into my purse and whip out a lipstick, often painting her lips without my knowledge, and if she’s lucky, time enough to also apply mascara and eyeshadow.
She is my thinker. She’s my artistic child. She’s magical. She’s everything I ever wanted in a child that I did not know I’d wanted, but am so glad because she’s such a free-spirit old soul. She is quick to anger, but quick to forgive. Quick with her love, yet enduring.
She loves to totter around in high-heels and would request that her hair be done up in bows, yet she love to roll around in the mud and dancing in the rain. She loves to read books and must have her daily dose of fine animation.
Silly of me to be such a worrywart, but I’m so glad I had her tested, and the only problem was basically the language acquisition which is understandable considering her parents being Deaf. Being in speech therapy has done wonders for her, and also older sister is benefiting from speech therapy as well.
