Hand made

I write so much about Rupi. The journey of adoption is new and fresh and stretching. I love it and doing it with a deep, complex and sensitive little soul makes it even sweeter. I even have another long post about adoption saved but I think this time, its about her.

She makes me slightly giddy. When I look at her I am amazed. She is a miniture, tiny woman-in-waiting. She's a little bud of a flower. She's so feminine and I see the hand prints of her Creator all over her.

She holds her own in the midst of constant wrestling and vigorous hugging. She loves her brother and is fearless in the face of all that testosterone.

She is froth and light. She is joy. With a constant smile on her face and a puff-puff as she she sticks her bottom lip waaay out as she crawls. She giggles and shrieks. Oh the shrieks! She is the loudest baby I have ever heard. Ever. Her cries wake the children sleeping 6 doors down. She goes from sounding as if her world is ending to a soft little giggle in one second flat.

I adore her. I love to hold her and curl my fingers around her little arm. Her arms are so little but still carry the required baby rolls and yes, her hands still look like they have been screwed onto her arms. Her top knot is the look of choice. Her hair is so long she can't wear it down and when it is, she grunts in irritation and tries to swipe her fringe away.

She is my girl. She is made like me and I get her. I love how she crawls up and onto me and smooshes her face onto mine. I love her, every single thing about her.

She is all girl, she's Blossom.