Three years. One day shy of three years.
I am lucky enough to be spending with you your last day as a two year-old. I asked you during your lunch of PB & J what your favorite part about being two has been, and you said, "Playing with Ian!"
Your second year of life has been filled with much change, not the least of which was having a brother added to the mix. This brother of yours who you love. Just absolutely love. I hear me thru you, offering him toys, asking him who that handsome boy is in the mirror, telling him he's a silly boy, congratulating him when he is successful. I see you watching me as I care for and love on your brother. Though you are jealous at times and a bit of rivalry emerges within you, you are by all accounts a wonderful sister. And Ian knows it. He immediately turns your way when you enter the room. And he can't wait to see what you will do next. And he hopes it will be something that involves playing with him. And I am amazed at just how often that is the case.
Of course your beautiful red hair has grown longer over the past year. Your legs (a bit!) longer. Your sentences, a lot longer. You are such a conversationalist. And that memory of yours. And your attention to details. Holy cow. Can't get anything by you. And just when your daddy and I think we have something figured out, like your insistence on three prunes each morning, you insist you no longer want such things. But you still fall asleep to Alouette and Frere Jacques with daddy's accompaniment, knowing that my French is not pretty. You instead love my accompaniment of Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes. In English of course. And then your mind finally calms enough to fall asleep.
You are now a preschooler. A preschooler. How did that happen? You have so been loving preschool. While other kids have been finding trouble, I find you at pick up either in the library or at the table perfecting your 'A's. Not to say that you don't find trouble, but you still tell us about any trouble you get into. Without prompting. And of course you also tell us about your friends and the trouble they find. And the trouble you found with them. Your best friend is Kallen, who is a beautiful little boy who I think takes good care of you. He even saves a seat for you next to him in circle time. Though, I hear he tells his mom that he does not like girls. But, you are an exception. Everyone loves you.
You have recently let me start calling you a smart cookie. Spelling your name is old hat. You sing your ABCs each time you wash your hands given daddy's insistence with good hand hygiene. "President Obama" is probably my favorite thing you say, second only to "sausage". You recite the Pledge of Allegiance, where you live, your city, can recognize all upper and lower case letters and numbers thru at least 12, and can count without error to 14. Fifteen trips you up but we can see that you are well on your way to 20 in no time. And your phonics is outstanding, even the exceptions. You will be reading in no time. And spelling, too. However will your daddy and I get anything past you?
You have chosen to spend the day tomorrow at the Children's Museum and to have lunch at the 'balloon place'. I am so excited that the four of us get to celebrate with you. Your daddy tells me that won't always be the case, but I won't think about that right now.
Three years ago, your daddy and I had no idea what was in store for us. Parenting is such a tough job. But I love, love, love the person you are. And who I see you becoming. Such a wonderful combination of love, compassion, intellect, and humor. All this at age 3. Amazing.
No matter how old you get, I know I shall forever hear this in my mind:
How much does mommy love you?
Lots and lots.
Love you, lots and lots.
Mommy
