Larger Than A Compliment

I’m not big on doling out compliments. If I give someone a compliment, it’s usually because they have done, said, worn, or whatever something so big and beauteous that I can’t keep my pleasant feelings to myself. I’m also not a person that talks about her kid in an overly positive way. In fact, many times it’s quite the opposite. I talk more about Mazie’s failings than her successes; it’s a Midwestern thing or at least that’s what I tell myself. Honking Mazie’s horn is like honking my horn and therefore it shouldn’t be done regularly. There is a fine line between proud and pompous and I am careful not to overstep.

All of the aforementioned is just the background for what I’m about to report…

My child, Mazie Kaye Thingelstad, has been the cutest, funniest, sweetest, most well-behaved kid for the last while. She has been a sheer pleasure to be around. Not all the time, all the place, after all she’s three. But, for the most part my child is in a stage of contentment that I find bewildering and lovely. She says funny kid stuff, she does funny kid stuff. She listens and does as she’s asked. She pees and poops in the toliet, she gets her own water out of the sink and climbs into the car by herself. Other than the endless three year old question of “why”(which I know is her just being inquisitive, but I still find annoying), she doesn’t do much that isn’t grand. I’m counting my lucky stars and I know my number will be up soon, but for now my Mazie is the rockin’est preschooler I know.