I haven’t written a whole lot about Jelly Bean and Nayner Bug but this year I plan on writing more about all of the kids. Time passes by so quickly, and I’d hate to think I lost the “little ones” years while I was consumed about a baby who is happily waiting for me in Heaven.
So today I want to talk about Jelly Bean. Interestingly, she’s always really been called “Bean.” I don’t remember who started the nickname, but it stuck.
This child is something so special. Bean just turned 3 in December, but I often have to remind myself that she is only three. She is so very full of life and energy. Smiles, hugs, kisses. Oh my goodness her hugs and kisses! She will come up and bear hug me and plant kisses on me at least 30 times a day. It’s awesome.
Her smile is infectious. She is so animated and silly with an imagination that could rival the best of story tellers. Her sense of wonder is incredible. Everything is magical to her and with her.
I know she has big things in store for her. Her teachers tell me that every morning the other kids ask “Where is Jelly Bean?” if we are late. They wait for her. They know she is special.
I am not biased at all!
And she is SMART! She can remember details that just amaze me. And sometimes that makes me sad, because she remembers when mommy was in the hospital for so long that she and her brother called it “Mommy’s house.” She remembers that she has two little sisters, but one is in heaven. She remembers every night to pray for my friend EV who lost her sister and her mother this year. And she will let me know if I forget! Which is good, because I like to hold EV in my heart every day. She remembers that I used to cry, and sometimes she reminds me of the day I cried and cried and was sad for “Kafryn.” And I remember how she, at not even two years old, went to find a napkin for me, climbed up in my lap, wiped away my tears, and kissed me, saying “Oh goodness sake mommy!”
Jelly Bean kept me here. Her sweet actions and her love kept me from going away from them.
She has her own sense of fashion, and although she is as girlie as a girl can get (obsession with lip gloss, make up, chapstick, and dresses) she refuses to let me do anything with her hair. Therefore she often looks like Bobo the Clown! I am hoping that one day she will be as interested in her hair as she is in her makeup.
She fully believes she is a princess, and I’m certainly not going to ruin that idea for her. She changes her clothes about 10 times a day. She prances around with one hand on her hip and the other hand up, wrist flopped older, telling me how things are gonna be. “Now mommy…” she’ll start to explain! And somehow she has developed an accent like she’s been raised in Brooklyn.
Oh she loves to dance. I hope if she ever has the choice to sit it out or dance, she always chooses to dance.
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