Truth be told, the Big Kid is pretty much always happy. She's an even-tempered person who tends to find the shiny side of every situation. Even when she's grumpy, it's not terribly hard to figure out a way to shake those grumpies out of her.
Some might describe her as "perky." They wouldn't be completely wrong.
That said, there's another level of happy that she can hit. It strikes out of nowhere. It comes with all of the energy, all of the enthusiasm, all of the joy, and ... all of the words. When Alexis hits that Good Day, she bounces, trounces, laughs, and talks.
So much talking.
All of the talking.
She forgets to breathe in those moments because she has an entire world she needs to tell me about. When that mood hits, I buckle up and get ready for a ride. It's going to be hilarious and enchanting, but it's also going to be exhausting.
Alexis was in that mood today when I picked her up from camp.
I recognized it before we had backed out of the parking lot. On a normal day, I have to ask how the day went. On a Good Day, the words start falling out of Alexis' mouth before she buckles her seat belt. The words fell so fast and so fiercely that even Mila took notice. She stopped trying to convince me that we should teleport to gymnastics and switched her focus to her big sister.
It lasted a mile. Maybe a bit less. For about a mile, Alexis talkedandshetalkedandshetalkedandshetalked while Mila looked at her, mouth agape. Mila was taking in every word, probably trying to figure out what language has no spaces between its words.
And then it happened.
A silent Mila stopped staring at her sister and loudly said, "SHUUUUUUSSSSSSSH!" Her finger was in front of her lips as she imitated the cranky old librarian fussing at kids giggling behind a pile of books. "QUIET!"
2-year old Mila shushed 10-year old Alexis. It. was. glorious.