Emma, Emma, Emma

This little person sometimes amazes me and not with the usual wonder of simply being my spawn, but in her quirky and honest feelings. I adore how she can't get enough of my singing and is the only person in the world that makes me feel like Ella Fitzgerald. I love that she can put things back without ever being shown where they go, I guess she is just really observant. She saw my hair band on the floor the other day and went into the bathroom and put it in the small container where I keep them. I know I have NEVER done this in front of her, in fact I only ask her to take care of her items. She must have inherited my natural sleuth gene.
I love that she never cries when it is time to say good bye to a TV show or leave a toy in the store. I'm touched that she herself has come to point where she no longer wants to drink from a bottle. I dodged that bullet. Last week out of nowhere she just refused milk. I thought it was because she was under the weather and had lost her appetite, but after 8 days of not wanting milk , I knew something was up. I tried everything from putting it a fun cup to giving her silly straws. Apparently the only way to now get her to drink milk is if you put it in a cup, with a normal straw and let her put two handful of jimmys in the milk. It is so bizarre and I have yet to ask the sitter how she came to that conclusion, but it works. Emma is back on milk. I guess she just needs to be in control. She cracks me up and I have noticed that me working on my attitude is transferring off on her and she has been very chill these past two days.