my cup…

I’m helplessly in love. With buburuza’s pigtails. Her dimple. Her precisely articulated, grammatical little sentences. Her twirls with a bum-shaking twist. The way she looks in overalls. Her perseverence in putting together duplo blocks. Her independent will tantrums. Het „buburuza on her own” book reading.
Just as helpessly as with mutsy’s new and elegant haircut. Her lightly tanned gorgeous legs. Her craving for cuddling together. Her fantasy games with 20 stuffed friends. Her way of mildly bossing her sister around. Her ordering fries at the restaurant. Her passion for animals and water. Her scared courage. Her princessness. Her laziness in trying anything by herself.
The girls are pure sunshine. I cannot help the almost compulsive kissing of noses and necks when I get home. But I’m having trouble telling them what American movies portray as the easiest thing. I can show them I adore them (which ought to be good enough), but saying `I love you` to almost 2 and respectively almost 4 year olds just sounds false and over the top. Maybe it’s the Romanian that doesn’t tolerate that kind of effusion. I don’t care. It’s just wrong. Therefore, for the record: I’m helplessly in love with my fabulous little ladies.

Un gând despre “my cup…

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