My daughter is a source of true joy in my life.  She’s has certain independence about her that I just LOVE.  Through dating her Daddy, I learned something remarkable about him: when someone told him not to do something, it piqued his interest rather than put him on guard.

He passed that trait directly on to his daughter.

“Sweetie, don’t spill that.” Automatically makes her think, “but WHY?” and she proceeds to spill.  She knows what she’s doing is naughty, but she does it anyway on account of insatiable curiosity and a small degree of stubborness.

The great side-effect of this trait is that she believes she can do anything.  Anything at all.  And I’ll TAKE that, by jingo!  I love watching her make her way through life perfectly content on believing that there isn’t anything she can’t do.  She’s got confidence in spades.

I’ve been trying to remember to record my latest favorite of her conversational cuteness.  It’s “up yer…”

As in, “Mom, get my crayons.  They’re up yer closet.”

“Mom, can you see my fishy?  She’s up my dresser.”

It sounds so rude when she says it, and her innocent tone makes it all the more funny.

The other thing she likes to do is use “very” in the place of “really.”

As in, “Mom, I very love you.”  It actually does sound sweeter than “I really love you.”

Right now, though, she’s sick.  She feels better today than she did yesterday, and I’m grateful for that.  The worst part about really sick kids (aside from the constant worry, of course) is the way you seem to “lose” your child’s personality.  I sometimes have to keep from tapping on their head and asking, “Are you still in there?”  They always come back, though.  After about three doses of medicine and a few days of mostly sleeping, they always come back.

Last night, she called for me from her bedroom.  I was on the couch on account of my OWN sickness.  I walked in, and she said, “Mom, I just need a hug.”  I crawled under her thick blanket with her and loved on her.  I asked her if she wanted medicine, and she said that she did.   I explained to her what a Priesthood Blessing was (she’s had one before, but little minds sometimes forget) and asked her if she wanted one.

“Jesus,” I said, pointing to the picture on her wall, “Doesn’t want you to be sick.  It makes him so sad because he loves you so much.”  I softly stroked her cheeks that had turned red on account of her very high fever.

“Jesus wants to help make you all better, but he’s in Heaven right now.  He lives in Heaven, but He can help through the Priesthood that Daddy has.  If you let Daddy give you a blessing, Jesus can help make you all better.”  I then asked her if she would want a blessing.

“Yes,” she said, hoarsely.

“Okay, ” I said, “Daddy is going to give it to you because Jesus lives in…” I paused to let her finish the sentence.

“Church,” she croaked out.  I giggled.  Giggling makes me cough, but I couldn’t help it.  Just then, a truck pulled into our driveway and it just happened to be PAPA who lives about 4 hours away!  We couldn’t believe it!  He came at just the right time.  After her Daddy and Papa gave her a blessing, she took a little bit of medicine and went to bed.  She woke up several times during the night.  I was able to help her once, but that was it.  After helping her only once, I literally stumbled back to the couch and sank into it, nevermore to rise.

Sunday night, I had started to run a slight fever.  I knew what was coming, so I used what strength I still had to take care of my sick daughter.  She’d had to miss out on her own birthday shin-dig of cake and ice cream and Great-Grandma’s house on account of her running a temperature.

“Sweetie,” I said, holding her in my arms and looking down into her red, watery eyes, “I’m SO sorry you’re sick!  I just want to take care of you.  I bet Grandpa would be SO SAD to hear that his Lacy was sick.  I bet if he came over, he would read a book to you.  Can I read a book to you?”

“Yeah, you can just read Jim’s book that he gived to me.” She said.  Before I could even ask what book that was or where it was, she added, “It’s under the counter about the kitchen.”

Sure enough, under the kitchen counter there was one book.  I took it into her room, sat on her bed, and started reading to her.  Between page turns, she would ask me questions that had nothing WHATSOEVER to do with the book.

“Bryce is mean to me,” she would say.

“How is he mean?” I would asked.

“He just CRUNCHED my fishy cracker,” she thrust one finger held up high in my face, “Just ONE fishy cracker.  Not ALL of them,” she opened her palm, wiggling all five fingers, and then quickly tucked them all under except one, “Just ONE.”

“What did you say to him?” I asked, holding back a laugh.

“I just telled him to STOP IT,” she said, “And he did.  But sometimes he hits me.”

“He hits you?” I asked, suddenly not even THINKING about laughing.

“Yeah, and he just gets in very trouvle. And they tell him, ‘stand in the corner, fold your arms,’ and he does but he still tries to KICK like this,” she said, flailing her little legs under the thick blanket, “He is mean to me,” she repeated, “And mean to all of us at Primary.”

“And he gets in trouble from the teachers?” I asked.


“Who are your teachers?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I dunno!” She shrugged, “I just know that Jesus loves me and even Bryce and you and Daddy and Trenton and EVERYONE!”

“That’s right,” I replied, smiling.

“Mom, what is service?” She asked.  I went on to take full advantage of the “teaching” moment and talked to her about service and why we do it and what kinds of services she can do at her age. I was so excited to have a little discussion with her, and got so wrapped up in it that she took me by surprise when she interrupted me.

“Mom,” she said, “Just read my book to me.”

I couldn’t help but all out laugh out loud.  Every time she woke up last night, she was still burning up with fever, but she popped out of bed this morning, ran into the living room where I was still in a half-dazed Nyquill induced coma and said, “MOM!  LOOK at the SKY!  It is SO BEAUTIFUL.  It’s PINK!” I reached up to find her fever 100% gone.

She crawled on top of me and cracked the curtain open, forcing me to see the goodness of morning.  The trick today will be getting her to REST her little body so the fever doesn’t come back full-force like it did with her brother.

After croup, pink eye, and this obstinate and terrible cold dovetailing each other, I’m MORE than ready for spring.  Who’s with me?!


  1. Seriously–your kids are cute.
    Also, what’s up with all the sickies? I’ll send a prayer (and some Florida OJ, if I thought it would keep) your way.

  2. Haha thanks! I think I needed those lessons just as much as Lacy. :) It’s been a looong time since the simle primary principles.

  3. Steve - the brother says:

    I am so glad you write these down.
    Here’s one you missed while I was lunching over on Sunday:
    Lacy: Steve, could you draw me a giraffe? My Dad isn’t good at drawing giraffes.
    Danny: Never tell your kid something like that. They’ll tell everybody.

    She has so much confidence in her uncle’s drawing skills. It makes me want to be a better person.

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