Mischief is her middle name...

In an attempt to be with my family more and on here less (imagine that!) I decided to raid my drafts that never got posted when they were written. This post was originally written on 8/20/09 when Corinne was just under 4 years old...

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Lord, I try.

I try not to laugh. But the corners of my mouth are disobedient. I find that I have to race from the room more often than not. Especially when SHE is there.

I never understood the stories from parents who would talk about their kids "getting into" stuff. Really? How? Other than a few situations when Evan was a little guy (can you say 2-year-old unsupervised with toothpaste = not good situation??) , my boys were pretty easy going as toddlers. They didn't wander and I knew where they were and (usually) what they were playing with. This parenting thing was a SNAP!! What the hell was wrong with the rest of the world that their kids "got into" stuff?!?

Ahem.

I apologize. These last 3 years and 10 months have taught me exactly how a kid "gets into" trouble.

Enter Corinne.

Before she arrived, I was unaware of the feats that a fearless, curious child could accomplish. Perhaps when she walked, no, RAN before she was 1, I should have had an inkling? The fact that she could swing like a big kid before she was 2 could have clued me in? When she sings songs for waiters (with encores) without a fear or care in the world? The countless times she has figured things out on her own, without even asking? All of these abilities will no doubt lead her to become an amazingly strong and charismatic woman someday. But today? Today my heart and mind are simply exhausted and I am raising my hands in defeat. She WINS. She wins the medal and can be in control for I am obviously out of my league here.


And yet, there is something endearing about this ability she has to create and exist within chaos...