Dear Periwinkle,
In less than two days, you will be three years old. Three
years ago, I was searching for apple cider donuts at Dunkin, complaining of an
aching back, cleaning the house, and eagerly awaiting your arrival in 3
weeks. Little did I know it’d be only 36 hours. Little did I know how completely
my world would change.
And so here we are. You are so smart and conversational, I
often forget you are only three, rather than thirteen. Your logic and reasoning
skills are rather astounding (though I may be biased) and absolutely adorable.
You informed Boomer he could not come in the playroom because he did not have
fingers and thus could not play with the toys. You negotiate more time before
bed, more cookies, more pears, more trips to the library, more stickers, with
the ease of a studied lawyer. You are an expert at dealing with an Indigo
meltdown, often giving way in an attempt to soothe him. “Okay, Inno. We can
watch Mickey first, then Daniel Tiger,” even though it is your turn to choose.
My heart swells with pride when you do that, seeing your empathetic soul. When
we brought the cats to the vet and they were crying in their cages, you started
crying along with them, begging us to let them out. The cats barely give you
the time of day, and yet your heart ached for them.
You are sweet and loving, yet still fiercely independent. “I
do it” has turned into “Let me do it myself!” but your stubborn pride is the
same. Often, you will turn back to me moments later, “Can you help me?” on your
lips; but more and more often, you succeed where once you struggled. It is
bittersweet seeing you accomplish more and more on your own, my girl who from
minute one pushed away from me to look around the recovery room in the
hospital. You still take in so much of what you see and hear, recalling it days
or even months later when I think you must have forgotten by now.
You handled moving (again) like a champ. You transitioned
into your new shared room without issue, and this past month you transitioned
again into your big girl room with little struggle. In the morning you proudly
announce, “I slept in my room all by myself!” If only falling asleep all by
yourself were easier, but we’ll get there.
You have taken to preschool like fish to the water (although
swimming lessons this summer were a failure—things to work on). I
love seeing the worksheets sent home, with your circles around all the letter
A’s and B’s, your scrawling handwriting as you learn to trace letters and now
words. I have no doubt you soon will be reading me stories instead of vice
versa. I’m so very proud of all you are accomplishing. You are also pretty much potty trained, which is awesome. Just . . . awesome. Keep it up!
This year has been so much fun, seeing you experience
everything around you and seeing you turn from a baby into a little girl. I’m
in complete denial that you are old enough to not be in diapers, old enough to
pedal your tricycle and help me bake cookies. Old enough to remind me to stay
within the lines when I’m driving (I always do), and to tell me that a stop
sign is an octagon, not a hexagon. But you’ll always be my baby girl.
Love,
Mama
No comments:
Post a Comment