{this is the post where you need so sing the words in your head. Do it.}
Wild thing, you make my heart sing, you make everything, groovy.
Wild thing, I think I love you.
Etc.
Now, while this is true, you also think bath time is torture, you need constant attention and praise, and you are even more of an 'into everything' child than your siblings. I mean, today you found your way up onto the kitchen table and plopped yourself in the middle of a coloring session, and threw all the pencils to the floor.
But, seriously, the stinking cutest, nose-scrunching, best giggling little girl a mama could ask for.
Despite the weeping and wailing and gnashing of (sharp, pointy) teeth when I take away the dishwasher soap for the twentieth time in as many minutes.
My heart really does sing, most of the time with you around.
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