Ms. Maya Captain Crazy Hair Carver

Maya deserves a blog post all about her. (And, Ange, given your comment on the last post, this one- which was already in the works- is for you.)

Currently she does some amazing facial expressions, is quite a ham on the potty (although not much of a producer as it turns out), and she keeps our family precariously balanced between outright hysterics and maddening frustration.

Inherent spitfire meets terrible twos. Yikes.

What's the one thing that you might never want to have in Maya's possession?

Dynamite, sharp knives, a small kitten, a cut crystal vase, nail polish...

Conversations with Maya sound like this:

"I don't want that blue shirt! I DON'T!!"

"Okay, Maya."

"I said I want that blue shirt! Give it to me!"

"Okay, Maya."

"I don't want it! I don't!"

or

"Momma, what are you doing?"

"I'm weeding."
"What?"

"I'm weeding."

"What are you doing?"

"What am I doing, Maya?"

Sad shake of her head, "I don't know."

Insert any daily task into this conversation and it happens 10 times a day.

She puts her blanket over her head and walks around like Casper the ghost to hide the banned pacifier in her mouth. She steals shoes and hides them all over the house. She puts 5 Bandaids on various parts of her body everyday. She prefers cereal and pasta to all other food. She adores her big sister.

I asked her if she was a silly goose today and she said, "No. I'm Maya."

If Maya was a color she would be siren red. If she were a food she would be 3 alarm chili. If she were a mountain she would be a volcano. If she were a soundtrack she would be disco meets electronic dance. If she were an activity it would be skydiving.

But since she is just a kid, I guess we'll call her "ours."

She came without volume control, without the ability to sit down, without warning or instruction. We always say it's a good thing she is so damn cute.

Ella, not meaning to be funny, said "I think when Maya grows up she's going to be a clown."

I think she already is.