This is our squirrel. Well, that isn’t her actual name, but it has been her label since our older daughter used her lisp to call this little one a crazy girl. It came out more like, “Crazy Squirrel.” She was only a year old then. She is seven and still Squirrel.
This face is commonly found on her face. It means many things, and my husband can regularly be found trying to decipher it through loving conversation only a Daddy can deliver. He has grotesque patience. He could out meditate Ghandi. I mean it. Don’t even bother with a staring contest.
I do not recollect what these two were talking about when I took this picture (it’s easy to get distracted when I see my husband being delicious and a dad- I am human). Squirrel’s face could mean any of the following depending on the day:
- This place is a tomb and I want to go to the nut shop where it’s fun, or
- This guy has been disciplining me for three minutes too long, and I stopped listening six minutes ago, or
- I will not be appreciated until I am dead; you people don’t deserve me, or
- Leaning against this counter isn’t hard; I do it all the time, see?
When she was a smirk older than one, she could make you feel inferior. It’s not a learned behavior, and I can’t quite decide if this could somehow be considered her ministry or just rude.She could make Tony Robbins feel insecure. She is still honing her sarcasm, but the fact that she spent five minutes trying to convince her older siblings that the Indian man at the airport was my father (we are Lebanese), tells me she has real untapped potential. I DO know that I love being this girl’s mamma.