Hidden

[caption id="attachment_4482" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Lotta hiding underneath our desk."][/caption]

It all started during holiday break.  The first week of break we were BORED.  Yes, in all caps BORED, the worst kind.   We decided to venture to Target (you KNOW how I feel about Target, right?)  Ben has recently become interested in his appearance (Did I mention how he only wants to wear collared shirts, because this is what he has observed real mean wearing, specifically his Dad.)  Thus, while we were at Target, we decided to peruse the boy's clothes.  At this point in our adventure, Lotta had tired of the shopping cart and desperately wanted to explore.  (She needed to once again help them rearrange the store to her specifications.  I am shocked every time Target allows us to come back in the store.  I mean they have video cameras recording all of our visits, they know the destruction she has caused.)   I released Lotta as Ben and I continued to discuss sweaters.  I looked up and Lotta was no where to be seen.  Panicked, I shouted, "Lotta!"  and walked purposefully around our section.  I wondered what happens when you lose your baby in Target?

[caption id="attachment_4479" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben in a collared shirt, with a dragon tie Santa accidentally gave to his Dad. Notice how Lotta is using the stacking toys as bracelets? Fancy."][/caption]

I mean Lotta can't tell the manager, "My mother's name is Debi Kennedy, could you call for her over the loud speaker? Thanks ever so."  (She sounds British for some reason doesn't she?)  As more minutes passed, I became more flummoxed and widened my search circle.  Ben was helping, he eventually found Lotta standing, without making a sound under a pants rack.  We were pretty impressed with her hiding skills.

It soon became her routine when I would say, "Lotta let's go bye-bye."  She would race to our closet and hide under my clothes.  Last week, we rehearsed this regularly scheduled performance.  I looked below the clothes.  No Lotta.  Wange (weirdly strange).  I checked the shower stall (the only time Lotta will

[caption id="attachment_4474" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="Lotta all set to go in her new outfit from her aunt."][/caption]

purposefully emerse herself into water is for puddle splashing).  No Lotta.  I was perplexed.  I thought if I went downstairs she would, most likely, emerge from her hiding spot. Or at the very least call out to me.   As I started down the stairs, I spotted a tiny eye peeking out from behind the bedroom door.  Seriously, she was not making one sound.  If there is a baby hiding contest, I am quite certain Lotta would win, I'm not just bragging here.   I am giving my non-biased opinion as her mother.

Finally, I just have to say that I totally and completely felt big love on Friday from all the phone calls, text messages and e-mails!  (Thanks to Linda for explaining that less than 3 is actually the symbol for an emoticon heart.  How clever she is.)  I am in appreciation for all of your powerful words and wishes.  Thank you for helping me not just survive the year anniversary of Ellie's death, but truly feel uplifted (this is where Josh Groban would start singing, "You Raise Me Up" on my life's movie soundtrack.  Imagine that now.  Or better yet play it.)