Apparently, my offspring did not inherit this trait from me, and somehow I’ve encouraged her to become the opposite. I guess this can be attributed to my constant slobbering all over her when we say good-bye, but somehow a simple good-bye hug and kiss have turned into a ten step ritual. It goes something like this: Kiss by you, kiss by her, hug tight, Eskimo kiss, right eye butterfly kiss, left eye butterfly kiss, last hug, and salutation. She is a creature of habit, and to most of the recipients, the routine is adorable. (Well, unless you’re her friend Reagan who basically got body slammed the other morning from Edie’s “welcome back to school” hug.)

This is just another one of those quirky things I love about her, that are sweet and endearing, and make her unique. Even though sometimes I am annoyed that I have to remove my glasses just to tell her good night, I know this is going to be another one of the zillions of things I’ll realize one day she’s stopped doing and suddenly yearn to go back to that time in her life. My hope is that she will always be so loving even when she has outgrown the ritual and continue to be the most affectionate kid I know.