My youngest turned two yesterday. Trying to photograph her is like trying to capture Bigfoot on film. She moves fast and if I’m holding the camera, she refuses to look my way. This is the curse of all photographer/moms, I’m sure.

Dree at two: She instantly drops what she is doing to dance if a good beat comes on. She is rarely without two fingers in her mouth. She loves to have a pencil in hand and pretends to write, like her big sister. She loves rough-housing and physical contact like her older brother. She is emotional, and definitely lets you know if she is not happy, with a move we call “The Flashdance” in which runs in place and screams demonstratively, a mini, shrieking Jennifer Beal wannabe. Dogs and cats are her favorite, and she has no fear, she runs right up to give a hug or a pat. She’s possessive of Stephen and I, often giving a block and a “My mama” or “My Daddy” to her siblings if they are after a hug. She loves butterfly kisses and eskimo kisses and real kisses.

She’s our tiny spitfire, and we are so happy she is ours. Happy Birthday, beautiful Dree!



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