Not quite two, she
moves with deliberate abandon

room to room around a corner
talking, thumping, smiling

intrigued by the last bubbles to go down the drain
the sound of rattling dishes in the cupboard she just pushed

she says sorry, thank you and please
she puts things in the trash

if we could all have some of her --
the way anything is worth “cheering” --
her bottle of milk to my cup of coffee
her bowl of cheese slices with my ham sandwich

“Cheers!” she says, demanding everytime I
touch the remote control to her bunny
my fingers nudge her piece of candy