The Young and the Restless

Punch was here for a sleepover but went back home tonight. I love her so much. She is adorable, huggable and charming, but she is a whirlwind. Eloise meets Hägar the Horrible.


She's three, H. says. She's fine. God makes us all differently. Noted as she delightedly dumps peanuts and pennies all over the rug, sprinkles Cheddar cheese [for the tacos] over the nuts in the bowl on the coffee table, sees if she can fit through the balcony slats, all while click-clacking around in my high-heeled sandals. That's his story and he's sticking to it, even when she finds Figgy's artist's charcoal while Figgy is still in bed and gets some on herself and the beige condo rug. But even he has to give her a time out when she kicks her sweet friend [not wearing my heels, thankfully] in the shin.


This may not be painting a fair portrait.


But Figgy was three once, and so were Laura and Kevin, and Ryan and Emmy and Nikki, and our nephew Taylor, and I didn't have to hustle my jewelry tray out of sight, or swoop the stapler and tape dispenser to a high spot, or remove every remote and gadget because it would be disassembled at a moment's notice. H. has a bottle of blue fountain-pen ink, and that really gives me the willies.


That little whirling dirvish. Nothing is safe in her reach, not my fine French perfume, or our car keys, or Sugar's dog food. Certainly not medicines or H.'s insulin pump supplies.


God bless that little Punch & Judy. She did help set the table here [actually, she unset it and set it again because I want to do it my own self] and make French press coffee and whisk pancake batter and walk Sugar. She visited Dad and made him smile, even though she did try to swipe a second truffle [from his tiny box of four] when no one was looking and ask why she couldn't have the orange Jell-O on his lunch tray and almost tip over the parakeet cage in the lobby. She loved seeing Moey and Ted and Laura and Ted's mother at their house for Sunday dinner, though she did paw through the litter box, take the cat's tiny fur mouse toy, hover over the pet bunny in its cage and lick Laura's face.


May she one day be front and center in the Oval Office, or orbit through space, or run a Fortune 500 company or a family of six. May her strong will, boundless energy and unsinkable curiosity take Punch far and serve her well.