She was a year and a half. We would drive around at night to enjoy the houses and yards lit up- all decorated for the holidays, but ended up enjoying her delight more than looking at the lights.
We weren't very strict about her being in her car seat at all times, so when a lavish light display came into her field of vision, she would mash her face against the window, press her quivering body as close to the door as possible, while spreading her little hands out to try and grab the glow, squealing PREEE'EE, at the top of her lungs. It was her favorite, most frequently used and most exuberant word, that first Christmas she could talk.
She was saying pretty, or trying to.
Her enthusiasm and passion for pretty has never diminished. We are still delighted watching her.
There really is nothing as attractive as a soul on fire....