In contrast to Calvin, who had to be physically pried off of me for weeks and once even puked on the pre-school steps, Ruby dashed right in, without so much as a courtesy glance behind.
Homegirl stockpiles Polly Pockets and Barbies. She begs to dress Silas and for reasons unknown, he actually cooperates for her.
Ruby Girl names her baby dolls Carla, Joyce, Julie, Brenda and Donna. She's got a vintage streak that beckons her back to the 70's or 80's, and I totally dig it. One of her favorite things to play is "Baby Carla", in which she slithers around on the floor, purses her lips into a ridiculous pout and squawks and giggles while all we have to do is repeatedly call her Baby Carla in conversation.
I sat helplessly in the balcony while she repeatedly yelled, "Teacher! Teacher! Watch me!" or "Teacher, I want to do that thing!" or "Teacher, why are thothe hoola hoopth on the wall?" She also aggressively stared down a boy who she felt was infringing upon her personal space. Then, during sprints at the end, she opted to play chase (unbeknownst to everyone else) and wound up eight lanes to the left of where she began.
She lives every moment with her full heart, this one. She licks every speck of frosting off the top.
Just last week she told me for the first time, "He hurted my feelings!" And I could tell that he did. And I knew for sure that it was the first time of many for this baby of mine, who's heart has two modes: Giggly Rodeo Clown and Emotional Teenager.
She is the pinkest, prettiest, zaniest gift of my life.