Calla has so much to say about everything.

Its like fireworks are going off in her brain right now and she is catapulting into a whole new stage of growing up…talking and trying to keep up with her big brother.  We have definitely moved in to the realm of coherent verbal communication.  It was just a few short months ago that she would carry on with crazy inflected sounds and whirling hand motions, all the while looking at us as if we were aliens from another planet incapable of understanding her.  But now, we are getting somewhere.  Some of it is still difficult to decifer, and we still get whirling hands and frustrated faces, but overall we are pickin’ up what she is throwin’ down.  One of the coolest transitions she has made is from calling me “yeah yeah” to “daddy”…and now most recently to “my daddy.”

My Daddy.

She says it as if its one word.  “Sit here, my daddy.”  “Hold me, my daddy.”  “Swing me, my daddy.”  “No no, my daddy!”  “Where my ho-ho-ho go, my daddy?” (Translation:  ho-ho-ho = Santa ornament she just picked out at Hobby Lobby.  See 153 Later.)  While officiating my cousin’s wedding last weekend, Calla squealed, “My daddy!”  through a good portion of the ceremony (though her mommy tried to shush her repeatedly…probably cause she’s jealous, haha).

I love it.  I absolutely love it.

She may not fully grasp the concept of possession, but she knows I’m her daddy….she knows she belongs to me and I belong to her.  I’m so thankful that God is continually reminding me about the way He feels about me through these precious little people He has put in my life.  A reminder that I belong to Him and He belongs to me.  A reminder that because of Jesus, He’s given me permission to approach him with both intimacy and reverance…He is my Abba.  A reminder that I’m His precious child and He loves it when I call for Him.

My daddy.  I suppose someday she will grow out of it…but I hope that is a long time from now…or never.