My Ellie Belly

I was looking back at my blog from two years ago.  The benefit of having two kids that are exactly two years (and one day) apart, is it's always easy to go, "What was Annie doing at this age . . . " and compare.  I was laughing so hard as I read all of two year old Annie's stories, of all the things she said.  That girl was always so verbal, and she had such an instinctive knack for the language, which almost never steered her wrong.  (But when it did, it was hilarious.) Her precocious insight into every day life were captured in adorable one liners and elaborate stories.

I realized I have markedly fewer such Ellie stories, which makes me sad.  'Cause it's not like that girl ain't funny, 'cause she's possibly the funniest, wackiest, most enthusiastic little girl in the whole world.  I have people constantly telling me how wild and crazy and hilarious and amusing and spunky and amazing and funny she is.  She's not quite as verbal (and we still don't understand a good third of what she says as she quickly rattles off paragraphs of nearly one-sided conversation) but she's smart, just like her sister (I found her today not only writing HER name on something she wasn't supposed to, but Annie's name too -- she's not even three yet and she can already graffiti multiple names in the family.) 

The thing is though, Ellie's a very 'physical' experience.  She tells stories with her whole body, every gesture and expression being what really makes it so funny.  She keeps Greg and I laughing all the time, but when I sit down and try and write out any of Ellie's stories, they just kinda 'fall flat'.  Ya gotta be there.  I should still jot down more of them, 'cause we can look back and remember the exact expression on her face, as she threw her body around excitedly, and be able to laugh about it for years to come; but if you weren't there, it just doesn't mean the same.  Like, the time Ellie sang her entire bedtime prayer (very dramatic, opera-like singing of "Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for the food, please bless Cody on a mission, in the name, Jesus Christ, AMENNNNN!")  That was funny.  Greg and I could barely show the restraint required of two parents with a brood of young children who are being taught to pray.  But then, when Annie started to pray ('cause Ellie prays EVERY night -- that exact same prayer -- half the time in song, then someone else says the 'family' prayer), Ellie kept peeking up and encouraging, "Annie, pray cra-zy . . . pray CRA-zy!" while making the craziest eyes you've ever seen and doing spastic 'jazz hands'.  I have never started laughing so hard after the word 'Amen' in my entire life.  It is, to this day, the funniest thing I've ever seen one of my kids do during family prayer -- and we have our fair share of amusing family prayer stories.  Ellie is endlessly amusing to everyone in her life.  I just gotta figure out how to capture that better.  (Maybe I just need to run a video camera 24-7!)  :-)

Oh, one quick Ellie story, while I'm thinking about it.  Ellie got a book in her Easter basket that was called, "Ellie's Tea Party."  Annie's coming along amazingly with her reading, so she was reading the title page, but stumbled for a second on the word 'Tea'.  I reminded, "Since there's two vowels, the first one says it's name . . ."  Annie nodded and said, "Oh, it's a silent 'a'!" and read the rest of the page just fine.  I didn't think Ellie was paying any attention to this (since she was repeatedly crashing her new wiggle car into things.)  Later that day, my Mom came by so the girls could show them her loot.  Ellie excitedly came running up with her new book and said, "Look Grandma!  I got a new book -- and it has a Silent A!"  She's beamed proudly ever since, showing everyone her amazing book with it's special 'Silent A', ever since.  :-)