I'm obsessed. Some call it "child-led parenting;" others call it "attachment parenting." Con, pro. Half empty, half full. I can't let her cry. I can't imagine her out of the bed. It'd be easier to wean her if she didn't love my boobies so much, I tell Daniel (the two-for-two sleep inducer and fixer of all evils is handy for me as well). I love it, raising this little human. Looks like Dad, looks like Mom. Look, Mom. What's this. Mom, what if I go over here; will you come? Mom, would you like this ball? Unless she's in the grocery store, then she bolts down isles faster than an ant finds sugar (which isn't really that fast, but it sure is determined).

She's my whole day. Pet-store visits. Library chaos (how many books can I replace in their correct spots and how many will I have to leave out?). It's endless talking, singing. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Nose goes beep. Let me munch on that chubby thigh. No, Eden, I need to finish these dishes. Don't eat those bubbles. Yucky. Yep, that's a ball. Whoa, whoa, whoa--those are stairs, little girl; do you want to fall on your brain? Upstairs gets boring? Try downstairs. Outside, always: even if just ten minutes in the rain. Listen, Eden, can you hear the birds? Bird. Bird. Can you say 'bird'? Bird. Check out these measuring cups. They stack. Well that one won't go in that one. Well sure. Try. See. Told you. It's endless, the bantering--dialogue. It is dialogue. She listens, she thinks about it. She responds. I listen. What did you say? Yep, that's my tummy. Tummy. Or belly. Why are there two words for so many things. Tummy, belly. Kitty, cat. Dog, puppy. A horse is a horse but a dog is a hoohoo! A bird is a bird but a sheep is a baabaa! This little piggy goes...? WEE WEE WEE, she responds.

Some people get uncomfortable with the amount I talk to her; they think I'm asking them a question; some people respond. Next it's my turn to wonder if I respond when they ask her a question. Yes, she is a shy girl. Yes, isn't she a good walker. Yup, trouble trouble. A lot of the time I like the question to be a private dialogue between stranger and Eden. Let it be. All stranger and I want to know is how she'll respond. Burying her head into my thighs. Reaching out, promptly yanking back. Don't touch me. Who are you? Points. She doesn't smile at strangers, either. I mean, if you make a goofy face, you expect a response. She stares, waits till they turn away, looks at me, smiles. Goof ball. Everyone waves and says bye. She stares. They wait. I say goodbye for her. They leave. She looks at me, waves, says bye-bye. Too late, little butt. 

She says bye-bye to me, sometimes, when I'm putting my shoes on, or when we're out some place, but she isn't saying it to me, really, because she knows we're leaving together.