Betty

 

Ava was such a punk when she was little we gave her an alias so we could talk about her and tell her stories, without her knowing we were talking about her if she happened to walk in the room.  We called her Betty.

She has grown so much in so many ways.  (Actually she really has, 3.5 inches in one year according to the doctor!) We don't even call her Betty anymore.

We are really proud of the way she is growing up and growing out of some of her "hard" tendencies.  Extreme sensitivity will hopefully continue to grow from a con to a pro.  She is still Ava, she still has her moments, and her mind works in a way that is different than any other person I've met.

She really is such a creative and individual little thing who wants to please you and say and do just the right things.  She is beautiful and kind.  And I just love her.

And quite contrary to what I've just said about how she's grown and changed, I must document this. I'm not proud of myself in the following scenario, but I'm not that ashamed either.  Obviously, because I'm sharing it.

 And I don't know when, but someday she'll appreciate this story, maybe in 20 years when she has her own rainy-parking-lot-mom-moment.  

In an effort to get out of the house this past week, we ventured to meet friends at a local church which houses a free gigantic, indoor play structure.

Apparently, on this day another event was taking place, so the normally empty parking lot was filled to bursting.  I was lucky enough to snag a spot on the very last row.

It was raining, of course, because that's what it usually does when you have to park far away and tote a bunch of children. Anyway, I had the umbrella in one hand, and Max's paw in the other.  Ava stepped right in front of Max, which resulted in him stepping, accidentally, on the back of her heel.  Which resulted in an extreme over-reaction on Ava's part. As she raised her hand in the air to smack him, while screaming profusely, I did what my reflexes told me to do, which was to use another appendage to thwart her attack since my hands were full.  I kicked her in the leg.  It was more of a blocking/separation than a kick.  And it wasn't hard, but it was quick and surprising to both of us.  And boy had I done it.

She screamed and cried and claimed she couldn't walk and insisted that it was bleeding and that it might fall off.  Really.

I continued through the rain, the kids trailing alongside me. I tried to explain while we walked (and Ava limped and wailed) that her leg was not going to fall off, that it wasn't bleeding, and that she cannot hit her brother ever, but especially when the problem was her own fault.  The tears continued and she was done with me.

Our friends met up with us on the sidewalk, and to stave off the embarrassment, Ava stopped crying immediately and walked with her face towards the wall to hide her wet, pink face.  Her little friend, totally unaware, babbled about the slides inside and asked Ava if she had ever been on the big one.

"Yes." she replied.

"Well, are you going to go on it again today?"

"No."

At this point I stepped in, "Really, Ava? You're not going to go down the slide today?"

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, faced me in the rain, and said in her best 13 year old voice.

"Of course I'm not going on the slide! You just kicked the DEATH out of my leg!!!"



We don't see her very often anymore, but sometimes Betty is funny!

She starts second grade on Monday.  I can't believe it.  I love her so much! I pray all the time that Heavenly Father will help me love her the way He does.  There is so much to her. So many nooks and crannies, so many things I can identify with completely, and so many things I do not understand.  I want to appreciate it all.  I don't want one drop of that girl to go to waste.