Let's call her Ollie to protect her privacy. She is three years old going on sixty-three. She's dainty and polite and delicate and sips (lactose free) milk with her pinky up. She is an old lady.
Ollie's situation is much, much different than Ree's and she will only be with me for a short time. I definitely did not see myself fostering again so soon, but because I cannot say no, I continue being blessed.
Everywhere we've gone so far strangers stop to remind me how beautiful she is. She always responds, "yessss I am," heavy on the lisp. We got a princess scooter at a garage sale this morning and she firmly refuses to ever take it off. Can you put a toddler to sleep in a helmet?
So far she has been a gem. BUT. There is a huge difference between Ollie's 3 and Ree's 4. HUGE.
Human beings are simply miraculous; that our brains can change so drastically in just several months baffles me. Ollie walks like a drunken sailor, and just a year her senior Ree was doing the splits, cartwheels and break dancing. And I went from arguing with Ree over "international spy kid stuff" to convincing Ollie to "eat eat her nana's cause they're yum yum in our tum tum." How significant the first years of life are for our babies' development!
So yea, 3 is much different than 4. I'm exhausted. Word on the street is the Terrible 3's are even worse than the Terrible 2's. We shall see.
Cash Money was terrified of Ollie, maybe because she's so small and wild, or possibly because she's not Ree and he's confused. Oh how he has missed her! Whenever her bedroom door is closed he wants me to open it, only to find an empty bed.
Ollie's ear-shattering screams and unpredictable movements just plain freak him out. He spends most of the day with his nose in the couch cushions. The saving grace? Ollie drops more Goldfish.
Enjoy your weekend!
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