She laughs and we make up songs along with the radio “fresh hits”, usually about the dog or some other silliness. She’s clever, almost as clever as her dad at finding a dumb rhyme to work in the words “Zeus” or “poop”.
She’s trying to make me laugh, and that is the whole point. She says, “I love you, Daddy” three or four times during an hour long trip.
She’s tougher than she used to be, able to change her mood from self-pity to resolve by refocusing and moving onto the next thing. She’s way more adaptive.
She’s so much like me. She’s nutty creative. She’s a cuddler.
She is on the cusp of change, and I see her genuinely facing it.