I'll hold you, baby.

This has been the summer of thunderstorms in the South. Literally, it seems every day of the week we have an afternoon or evening thunderstorm. Sometimes, we have them very late at night, just when Mama is finally ready to lay her head down for bed, which wakes up the baby. The good night's sleep I was hoping for turns into a slumber party with Evie:

"I seep wif Mama."

As I write this on a quick Tuesday afternoon work break, the thunder is rolling outside. And I can vividly imagine my baby at daycare right now:

"NO NO, TUNDER! NO NO, TUNDER!" 

This is what she cries whenever she hears thunder, or any rumble that sounds like thunder, such as the garbage truck on Thursday mornings or fireworks on the Fourth of July. She points that teensy finger and commands, "NO NO, TUNDER!"

But lately, she's also taken to being compassionate toward others whenever a storm comes:

"I hode you," she says. "I hode you, baby."

This warms my heart so, so much.

Most of the time, she calls for a baby doll or for me when she's scared of anything. ("I'm seered!" she says) and this goes beyond thunder to when she sees a scary character on a TV show, or when a stranger approaches her in the grocery store, or even when a big kid gets too close at the pool: "I'm seered! Ebie seered!" 

So in an effort to calm her fears and remind her that it's going to be OK, I taught her, "Don't be scared. Just hold Mama." And from this, she has learned that when others become frightened, she should hold them, too.

If Evelyn hears another baby cry, she responds with a worried expression on her little face: "Baby sad. Baby seered. Baby cyin (crying). I hode you, baby!"

When it's bedtime, I tell her she needs to tuck her babies in so they won't be scared.

She complies, "I hode you, baby" and sings to them: "Acka-bye baby, seep seep!" (Rockabye baby)

And even when Daisy Duddles (who her Daddy has taught her to call Fat Duddles!) becomes panicked from thunder storms, Evie pats her and affirms, "I hode you, Duddu."

You can often overhear her saying this to a baby doll, holding it tightly under her little armpit, swinging it back and forth and kissing its little face:

"I hode you, baby." 

Oh, how I love my sweet girl and her sweet little voice! I don't ever want to forget her reaching out to say, "I hode you, Mama," first thing every morning when I walk into her room, tiny little arms outstretched.