Ginger’s 2nd birthday

The little tike celebrated her second birthday at our house. She is growing up fast as her little brother which insures she knows the world does not rotate around her. She wandered through the house, her tiny hands poking and grabbing everything within her vicinity. She carried some items until something else caught her eye. Then however fragile, she dropped them to the floor as she reached to get the next item.
My son watched as I followed her, picking up and putting things back. “At last, she gets to mess up your house,” He said, still astounded at the messes she makes every day.
After my husband crawled up in the attic and hauled out the child-sized plastic car, the clutter settled around the car as her imagination took over. With her car she went shopping in my pantry for boxes of cereal that she arranged carefully on the car seats. She flopped the doll she called “my boy” in the back and drove away in the land of pretend.
From the land of pretend I learned what her mother says when our 2-month-old grandson needs a diaper change. His big sister came to the kitchen dragging her doll by the arm and announced, “My boy went poopy. I have to change his diaper.”
“Do you want me to help you?” her mother asked.
“No. Granma come.” She grabbed my finger. We got a diaper and she guided me down the hall to my bedroom. I watched, offering little advice as she opened the disposable diaper, pulled back the sticky tabs and proceeded to lay the doll upside down on the diaper. Finally with a satisfied look, she taped the oversized diaper shut over the doll’s chest, tummy and legs. I returned to the kitchen.
A few minutes later her daddy came in and whispered to her mommy, “Come here.” They went down the darkened hallway to my partially opened bedroom door. They stood back where they could see but not be seen as their daughter worked alone trying to change a diaper on “my boy” all by herself.
I do know that her momma doesn’t drag her 2-month-old boy around by the arm. She holds him close and talks to him. He listens with a big toothy grin, waving his arms and legs, working to let her know he is listening.
Before they came, I worked hard preparing two pounds of finely grated carrots, browned butter and freshly roasted nuts for the carrot cake her momma request for her birthday. Before the birthday supper, we set the table with china and napkins.
The birthday girl ignored all the fuss until we began singing “Happy Birthday.” She looked around at the seven adults singing and smiling at her. She froze in awe as the brightly lit candles melted into the cream cheese frosting on her carrot cake. After her aunt blew out the candles, I handed her a gift wrapped in pink. She took it, slid off her chair, plopped down on the floor and began tearing off the paper.
She may be too small to enjoy a party, but she was big enough to know what do with presents.