{Happy Fourth Birthday, Little Bird!}

Dearest Little Bird,

Wow! Four years old! I swear this year has flown by, both in time and in the changes that have come across you. In this past year, perhaps the biggest change is that all the "baby" has dissolved out of you. You are entirely a "kid." The way you walk, talk, sit, hold a pencil, run, jump, play and more--all of this attests to the fact that you have truly left behind your baby and toddler years and are forging ahead toward "kid"dom and adolescence. You are a little miracle, every day. I won't lie; there were some tough moments in the past year between the two of us (for you and me), but I think we've both come through it for the better, and I love you all the more for it. I'm far from a perfect mommy, but if your sister taught me how to be a mother, you have always taught me how to be a better mother. Sometimes that's hard (on both of us), but in the end, I'm grateful for the challenges.

I'm so excited about who you are becoming. One thing that still holds true for you is that you are SMART. This past year, you've started sounding out words and can even read simple books on your own and love to sound out the words on signs as we drive and point out familiar words like "pizza" and "stop" and "off." You ask questions that surprise me, questions I assumed a three-to-four-year old would be too young to think of. But you are a thinker. You are interested in the things around you, the way they work and the "why" of them. You ask "why," but not in the endless, annoying way so many children do. You ask it thoughtfully, and I can see the wheels turn in your head while you listen to the answer. I try to respect this part of you and never say "because." I'm honest when I don't know, and I work hard not to dumb down answers too much for you or simplify them because it would easier for me (like when you ask questions about where babies come from and what happens when we die).

You love learning facts and memorizing information. Dinosaurs are currently at the top of this list. You know an extensive list of dinosaur species, more than I knew existed before your interest was sparked. When I call one a triceratops, you may correct me with, "No, no. No. No, mom. It's a styracosaurus." (I love the way you make corrections by saying no so many times, as though each is a separate sentence.) You love to go to museums, and even watch documentaries on TV about pre-historica and monster trucks. You lean towards non-fiction books on our library trips, unless of course they have to do with Halloween, as you also seem to have a penchant for the macabre, which you've surely inherited from your mother. I love the way you can pour over a book. You don't talk out loud about a book you spend time with, or make up your own stories. Instead, you stare intently and look deeply into the pictures. Every book must hold so much for you, and whether you are spending time alone with one, or having a book read aloud to you, it is an enveloping experience; your expressions and involvement (with movies or TV shows too, at times) is so much fun to watch. You experience deep empathy with the characters and it shows.

You absolutely love preschool. At the start of your third year, you were still attending "Toddler Lab" and I could tell you were bored witless--you'd simply wander from activity to activity and sometimes watch the other kids. Now that you've moved up to preschool, there is a whole new excitement. You are jealous of your sister's five-day-a-week schedule, and really lament those Tuesdays and Thursdays when she gets to go to school and you have to stay home. I think because of preschool, you've also recently started to be more interested in art and coloring. You still don't have a lot of patience for coloring pictures, and often tell me to finish them, but your attention span for them has definitely gotten better. You're now at the age that you are making friends. In preschool, you've made a few each semester, and I like to ask you about them. You tell me they are your friends because "we always sit together, always next to each other" or because a certain kid "says funny things and laughs with me." I think, based on what I see and hear from your teachers, that you may be gifted with leadership. Of course, you are so little, but you are coming into your own and seem to like to get others involved in your world and passions. Your imagination and ability to direct play is large--you've been well trained by your sister--and you are good at bringing other kids into that world of play with you.

You wonder. I love when you wonder and imagine out loud.

You are a thinker, but also a "feeler." You experience emotion more profoundly than many kids do, I think. I can also see the beginnings of empathy taking root. For now, your default emotion is anger--it comes out when you are scared, hurt, frustrated, ashamed, tired, hungry, or mad. But you are also (finally!) learning to curb that anger, to control it and express the real emotions behind it. I believe part of this is my finally understanding how to better parent you. Some of the rough spots between us this past year have been growing pains from my not knowing your emotional needs. Love and its expressions are your strongest motivator, and shame is what cuts you most. I work hard now to discuss your behavior with you in private, to work on your and Squirrel's arguments separately, and to try to empower you when you are visible to others. We both have work to do. I am still too short tempered and sometimes push against your anger instead of modeling meekness, and you know the buttons to push. (Recently, when you're mad about completely unrelated issues, you've cried out, "I'm never going to church with you again," which seems a rather insightful punishment for a three-year-old to inflict on his God-fearing parents.) And you are still quick to place blame on others when things don't go your way. Through this past year, we have both really worked, and it shows. Your anger melts away much more quickly, you have learned to give heart-felt apologies, and have learned that more than one emotion is possible. What were once explosions with screaming or hitting a few months ago, are now expressions of mitigated anger, such as, "Mom, I still love you, but I am feeling really angry right now!"

For however quick to anger you are though, you are also quick to forgive, quick to express love, quick to calm my troubled mommy heart.  When, for your fourth birthday, I presented you with this cake, you gasped, and exclaimed, "It's sooooo BEAUTIFUL! Wow! How did you make it SO beautiful??" You are by far my "snuggliest" child. You like to cuddle up. You tell me I'm the "best mommy ever" or the "nicest mommy in the world" and that I make the most delicious food (oh, how you will learn...), and that I'm your "special girl." These words, and the dreamy, sweet looks that accompany them are the very best part about being your mom. You come and stroke my face, hold my hand, or curl into my lap and release all the troubles of your complicated little life, and it feels like forgiveness for my misgivings washing over me. We make mistakes together, and in the sweet, quiet moments we share, we atone together.

One of the best surprises of the past year has been not just your deepening expressions of love for all of us, but especially for your new baby brother. I expected your sister to be the one who jumped up to help and who doted incessantly on him, but you have filled that role remarkably as well. You are my best helper and you also adore your baby brother. You coo and talk in babyease with him; you roll on the floor with him; you share your toys; you sing him songs and work so hard to make him laugh. He is such a blessed child to have you for a big brother. It is a role I was worried about you filling, but which you have taken on completely in stride. And he adores you right back. I love the way the two of you interact. Perhaps my favorite part of the day (even though it sometimes comes too early) is when you and your sister come into my room each morning, full of excitement to see the baby and coo and play with him.

You are funny. You're a little goofy, a little crazy, sometimes downright nuts and wild. I love this about you. You can make me guffaw with your wit and silliness. You say things that make me burst out laughing, partly because you have a great sense of humor, and partly because the words you use seem just a little too big for you. I love watching you dance. You are not particularly a show-man, which makes it more fun to see because you dance just for you. When you rock out, you do it with soul and meaning, eyes closed. Your favorite dance is probably the robot; you have some wicked robot moves. The one song you will always dance to or play air guitar with is The Black Eyed Peas' "I've Gotta Feeling" (which you call "The Green Guy," thanks to the album art that appears on the iPod).

You cannot be compelled to do anything you do not want to do. Perhaps the most frequent example of this is the fact that you categorically refuse to sing in group settings with your peers. At nursery singing time, you sit with your arms crossed scowling. The same goes for preschool circle time, when you are perhaps supposed to be marching in a circle or pretending to be an animal. Get back to the lesson, and you are happy to comply. Sing in a group? Not likely. So unlikely, that in the rare instances it has occurred, your teachers sought me out to tell me excitedly that you sang! This stubborn streak is sometimes the cause of some head butting around the house, but I can see it will help you be who you are meant to be, so I try not to quash it altogether.

You are just your own person. I love every little angle of you. I love the way you are such a kid, and yet you are still my little boy. I love those big brown eyes. I love your mood swings, I love your warm little body climbing in my bed still most nights (though I'm not crazy about the kicking and bed hogging). I love your huge expressions. I love the way you think. I love the way you love your siblings. I love your stubbornness and your deep desire to be a helper. I love the things you learn every day.

This year, you love dinosaurs, monster trucks, Cars and cars, reading (Little Critter and Elephant and Piggie and anything to do with spooky monsters and ghosts), trucks and tractors, superheroes, church, your brother and sister, and mom and dad, Dr. Pepper (you're always sneaking mine, and it's part of my motivation to keep trying to quit), candy, macaroni and cheese, apples (you will literally eat 3 pounds of apples in 2 days...you are very regular), wrestling, yelling, riding your bike, the library, Halloween, Jesus, and yourself (you say so sometimes, and it makes me happy for you)!

I'm so grateful you are mine and for the sweet little soul that is you! Thank you for being an amazing kid and helping me learn more every day! I love you, my sweet, handsome Little Bird!

All my love,
Mom

The Grasshopper is SIX MONTHS OLD!

How can this be?

How can my tiny, precious, heart of my heart be half a year already? Soon half a decade and then half a century...

It's only a half birthday, but it's his first one, so I think I will write him a letter anyway. I hope you enjoy it.

Dear sweet little Grasshopper,

Oh, I love you so! I can hardly believe you are six months old, and yet it seems at times to me that I've had you for all of eternity! I can barely remember a time that you weren't here. You have brought us so much happiness and joy in your short sweet little life. You have this smile that just makes me laugh from deep, deep, deep down. You have this funny little dimple in your chin, off to the side, under your mouth. I love it, and yet you categorically refuse to let it be photographed. I hope it sticks around for always. When you smile, your eyes crinkle, just like your daddy's do. Really, there is so MUCH of your daddy in you. Sometimes I laugh for joy and fun just because I see so much of him when I look at you. He's not as baby-faced as he once was, but sometimes I look at you and see your baby-faced daddy from his college days, and it just tickles me to know that you may look so much like another great man I love so deeply and who loves you so deeply too.

You are so very happy. I know people think all babies are happy, but you, you really are! You don't hardly ever sleep (oh, how many a woman has said something along the lines of, "Oh, I can put him to sleep. Give him here!" and then had to admit her defeat...) but even without it, you are not cranky or ornery. You love to giggle and movemovemove. As your nickname suggests, you are a jumper. I think you jumped in the womb...and still do it all the time! In spite of your distaste for sleep, I can occasionally get a few things done because you have been known to bounce in the jumper for close to an hour at a time. I thank you for this. (But seriously...start taking naps. They are rad and some day you will wish back all the naps you ever wrestled your way out of...)

You possess a near-constant need to be talked to. Although, I will admit this need is decreased significantly since you were very tiny and have developed the ability and desire to explore the world around you. However much you wish to explore though, you will stop everything if someone will talk to you. You study faces SO intently, and are getting to the stage where you don't have the ability, but I can see the desire, to mimic expressions and facial movements. Your brother and sister adore this quality in you and have probably spent what amounts to days in front of your face, talking, giggling, and making silly faces to get reactions out of you. They are truly happiest when they can make you laugh.

I love our nursing relationship. It's just recently reached that stage where I can call it that--a "relationship." Before, it was pretty much just you eating, but now you look for my hand to hold, or stop eating to study my face and smile at me. You pause to share a giggle or watch until I turn my diverted attention back to you. Nursing is so full of sweet moments that were so easily forgotten with the older two, and I am so grateful to have this connection to you. Even though there are times I'd give just about anything for a little more space between feedings, I always enjoy being close to you and am grateful for the special bond we have at this age.

You are, as I said, beginning to explore. This is your first little stage of independence. and you enjoy it fairly confidently. You are rolling everywhere now. You get all over the living room, though you cannot always choose your direction completely reliably, sometimes reaching for an item and find yourself rolling away instead of getting it in your grasp. You are |thisclose| to sitting up on your own--you have an excellent model pose/lounge position going on. You've been trying to get up on your knees, but still can't get them under you. I think (thankfully) that crawling is at least several weeks out.

Right now, your favorite things are peek-a-boo, being tickled, "This is the way the ladies ride," Open, Shut Them," and crumpling/shredding paper. (I think when you giggle sometimes in your sleep, you are probably dreaming of having free reign to tear up everything in a paper factory.)

You remind me in many ways of each of your siblings at this age--you look so very much like your big sister, you fight sleep like she did, and the endless motion and jumping are so like her.

Like your brother was, you are happy, happy, happy, and have a smile that just lights the whole world.

You are totally yourself too though--you are a bit more pensive than the other two. I love watching you observe people and objects with this perfect, curious expression with a little sucked in bottom lip. (I try so often to capture it in a photo, but have thus far failed.) You are also always attentive--even between tickle attacks in a tickle session, you will stop smiling and look very intently to assess what's happening around you. I am so looking forward to see what that thoughtfulness turns into as you grow older.

I love getting to know you better every day. I feel so privileged to have you here in our home. I love every tiny thing about you. Thank you for coming into our family and for the exquisite joy you brought along! Thank you for expanding the love we had in our home bigger than I could have thought possible.

I love you my sweet little Grasshopper!

All my love,
Mama

To my son, on his 3rd birthday....

Dear Little Bird,
Three already? How can this possibly be? I will probably say it every year as long as I live, but I simply cannot understand how time moves so quickly and how quickly you change into a bigger someone than I knew just the day before. How can I write all that has happened in the last year when my memory is so weak that it tells me with certainty you were swaddled up in my arms just moments ago?

Hmmm....how shall I describe you at your third birthday? You are...complicated. I really do enjoy this about you, because it means you are turning into a little person, and not just a baby or a toddler. You have traits that make your personality round and complete, and it often makes me wonder what you will be like when you are grown. To list the traits that (at present) most come up when describing you, I would say (in no particular order) you are: funny (hilarious, really), imaginative, ornery, delightful, intelligent, sympathetic, stubborn, determined, resourceful, pensive, deliberate, charming, and affectionate. (Though I will also add that the inadequacy of this list is really striking.)

I am sometimes surprised or delighted (or driven to the brink of my sanity) at the way you can so quickly change moods. When you and I don't get along, it is almost always because one of these mood swings has overcome you.

If you learned the power of your will before your second birthday, you learned the power of your voice this year. You have learned to sass, and how! Let me say here that many people, myself included, have been impressed by how well you speak, and how well you have spoken since you began. You are ahead of your peers, the charts that say what you should do, and ahead of where your sister was at this age when it comes to your expressive language. Like most two and three year-olds, you experience frustration from time to time. This happens for any reason from not being allowed to do or have something you want, to being overcome with large emotions like sadness or pain. However, unlike most two and three year-olds, you have a rather refined vocabulary at your disposal to use on me for expressing anger, telling the reason for your sadness, and trying to convince others why you are "right."

Again, while I am grateful for the gift of language you have, I am not always grateful for it's outcomes when my two year old can expressly tell me why he should be able to do something, or how he categorically refuses to be disciplined in any way. Sometimes I am delighted by your expressions of emotional depth, and at others even a little concerned. (Happily, there is still plenty of humor to be found in these instances, such as the time you told me while traveling back from Phoenix and stopping at a McDonald's for Happy Meals, "Actually, Mom, I would prefer a Sad Meal."

Or when you looked your Dad squarely in the face with narrowed eyes after he informed you that spitting was inappropriate and told him, "You are not my father." While I smothered my laughter at your far too advanced assault, he simply cocked his head and said, "Hmmm...I thought I'd have a few more years before you started in with that one.")

On the positive side of the language skills, I absolutely relish the conversations we have. You have started to ask why and how things happen, and unfortunately I usually give you answers that are too complicated. This is good though, because then I get to hear your magical explanations of why the clouds really move, or why the sun comes out in the day (it's afraid of the dark). You have also been telling stories for a while now. Your stories have plot and character, and usually are full of Halloween-type characters like witches and monsters and "ghosties." (You love "spooky" stuff and spend all your time at the library each week looking for the books with the Halloween stickers.) You have also entered one of my very favorite periods of language development, the "I wish" stage, where you will randomly tell me things that you wish you could do, like be a racecar, or go back to Disneyland and "ride that rocket ride." I love this insight into your thoughts and imagination.


























You know your letters and most of their sounds. You love mixing up letters and telling me what they "spell." You can count higher each day. You like to draw and paint and have discovered the apparently deep satisfaction that comes with using a pair of scissors (so far only on paper and some clothing, but I'm certain your or your sister's hair will find its way between the blades all too soon...). You run, you jump, you climb stairs, you throw and kick balls, ride a bike, fly like a superhero, fall, and wrestle. Sometimes you punch or bite. Often you "karate" and sword fight. This year, you have learned (and take enormous pride in) dressing yourself, how to climb on the countertops, how to use the toilet (though, as in many things with you, sir, I have learned that your ability to do something and your willingness to do so are very often not aligned), how to play with children your own age, and how to stand up for yourself.

You are sensitive. If I snap at your behavior, I can see you melt like a popsicle in summer right before me. If you are hurt, mommy kisses almost always remedy the situation immediately. You sleep hard, making up for all that hard play and big emotion: we must never wake you from a nap, because to do so awakens an antagonizing dragon-child. If we let you wake on your own, even if the difference is minutes, you are snuggly and pleasant and cheerful.

This year, you love Cars, space, dinosaurs, cooking, Charlie and Lola, monsters and ghosts, reading, rough-housing, your sister and baby brother on the way (whom you yell to in my belly), your daddy, and the great outdoors.


And, as always, what I love deeply this year is you: your growth, your charm, your humor, your intelligence, your all-consuming smile, and even your obstinance. You are simply you, and I wouldn't have it any other way, my sweet, hilarious, complicated, boy.

All my love in this year and forever,
Mom

Happy Birthday, Squirrel!

To my dear, sweet Squirrely-girl:

You are FINALLY four! I say finally because you have been looking forward to this day for a VERY long time. In fact, since the day after your third birthday, you have been telling people, when asked your age, that you are "almost four." Already, you are beginning to inquire when you will be five. This characteristic, though funny in itself, is also pretty indicative of your personality as a whole. Since you were tiny, you have always focused on doing the next thing, whether it be rolling over at days old, standing up in my lap at weeks old, crawling at 5 months, walking at seven months, etc, you have always had your eyes on "the next big thing." Even now, you have started asking when you can go to college, have a boyfriend, or get married. (You are obviously already trying to tear my mommy-heart to pieces.) We said before your birthday that you were 3 going on 13, and now I suppose you are 4 going on 14.

You are, as you always have been, full of silliness and wiggles. I sometimes lament to you your inability to stand still as I attempt to wipe your face or comb your hair, but really I do love that inexhaustible fire inside you. It seems that there is some sort of engine in your body that keeps you wiggling and moving, laughing and squeaking--too much energy being created that must come out in combustible bursts of positively insane laughter, bird-like squawks, and full-body wiggles. For the most part, you are still only when you sleep (which you still fight like a ninja...). We signed you up for ballet this past year in hopes that it would help to channel some of that energy. Mostly, you just acted like yourself in ballet class, relishing in the moments you could "freestyle" and dance to your own beat in class. At home, it added a few moves to your repertoire. At your recent ballet recital, I giggled through your dress rehearsal as you watched the other girls and spun your own circles, but was amazed at the way you transformed for the actual performance. You knew your moves and danced from memory--I saw then that the performer in you may perhaps be more real than I had thought. You like to stand up on "stage" and sing and dance, or hold a circus or talent shows, but not until then did I really see you "turn it on."

You ask a great many questions about everything from heaven to earth and in between. You are sensitive, asking questions about others, worrying when you see other kids cry. One of my favorite things you have started doing over the past year is talking out and wishing for things in abstract. Sometimes, usually when we are riding in the car and you have to sit still for more than a few seconds, those gears start to turn, and you let me know what is going on in that head of yours. Things like, "I wish that all my stuffed animals would come alive and play with me!" or "Mom, wouldn't it be great if I could have a unicorn and he could ride me up on a rainbow where we could play and slide?" (And yes, those are actual thoughts you have shared.)

You are a glamour-puss. You love clothes and shoes and purses and jewelry, and your favorite color is pink (and purple...and if it were a color, also sparkly). You are endlessly addicted to sweets. When asked your favorite food so I could cook it for your birthday, you replied, "Candy, Mom. Of COURSE." (Of course. Really, it was silly of me to ask in the first place.) Your imagination is superlative; you have a barrage of imaginary friends, along with their assorted family members. I regularly hear you conversing with them, playing the part of yourself and numerous others all at once. You have started making "real" friends too. Aside from the dorm girls (whom you adore and who adore you in return), you also love to play with other kids your age. You are at times shy, but I can see your desire to overcome this and make friends.

Your favorite books are from the Pinkalicious and Fancy Nancy series. I am sure this is because you relate so well to their characters! Your favorite movies are Cinderella and Bambi, and when you are actually playing with toys, it almost always involves princess dolls. Since the weather has warmed, you will happily spend every minute possible out of doors. In fact, I think you'd do this even in the dead of Idaho winter if I would let you. You love to create and make art; in fact, you are a world-class mess maker when it comes to anything art related, as you love paint, tape, markers, crayons, and any type of paper you can get your hands on.

You are delighted so easily by the smallest things, that it sometimes makes me question where my own wonder went to. Puddles, dandelions, bugs, clothing racks, clouds--all these things provide endless amusement for you and give me the much-needed reminder to slow down, to stop, and to marvel at you.

Your brother is at times your best friend and at others, your worst enemy. I absolutely relish the times that you play nice together, the nights I peek in to see you curled up together in the same bed, the times I catch you teaching him, working out sneaky plans together, dressing him up, or encouraging him. Those are the times that make me realize how grateful I am that you two will have each other after Dad and I are gone. There are other moments, less associated with lifelong love, and more associated with having a toddler and a preschooler: you fight, you taunt, you push, you hit, you steal, you scream and cry. But I try to teach you in those moments. I know I am not always perfect, but I hope that some of it sticks and as you two grow older you will also grow closer.

You are your daddy's joy. Since you were born, you had that man twisted around your finger and you still do. You have his rambunctiousness, that little streak of devilish mischief, his expressions, and his heart. There are times I see a heaviness in his eyes because of the love and responsibility he feels for you. He wants nothing more than to protect you from this big scary world, and he works so hard to teach you right from wrong, how to make choices, and how to be kind.  You are everything to him. And you adore him in return. No one, not a soul, can make you laugh in the way your Daddy can. No one holds your attention like he does when he takes quiet moments to teach you. He is a superhero in your eyes, and you have said as much.

When it comes to you and me, I am grateful everyday for you, my first gift of motherhood. There is a lot of me in your personality. And luckily (unlike your father and brother's shared traits), those are the pieces that go well together; we don't often butt heads and just genuinely enjoy each others' company. Sometimes, you make my heart absolutely soar with proclamations like, "Mommy, you're my best friend," (oh, I hope I always am) and "You're the best mommy EVER!" (I sure try) I could spend the whole day observing you just being you--watching your silliness, your performances, your wonder. I think I will always love watching you, no matter how old you get or what your activities turn into. I love our conversations (which in the past year have actually become that), the questions you ask, the jokes you tell me. (Recently, someone must have taught you about knock-knock jokes...which you love even though the punchline often evades you. Example: Knock Knock | | | | Who's there? | | | | Banana! | | | | Banana Who? | | | | BICYCLE!!! | | | Hysterical laughter.) You never run out of surprises for me. Some days, it might be something you know that I didn't realize you had learned; other days I am astounded by your capacity for love, your understanding of the world around you or the suddenly more sophisticated sense of humor. I think so often that you were sent here to teach me, and worry I am not doing as good a job at teaching you. I cherish the moments between the two of us, the time we have to laugh and play, snuggle, or simply lay and watch the clouds. I am so grateful each and every day to have you as my daughter. I love you. Happy Birthday.

All my love,
Mom

A letter to my son, who turns two today...

To my dear, sweet, Little Bird:

You are two today! You father and I can hardly believe it. This year has been full of remarkable changes for you, as this marks the year that you turned from "baby" to "child." We have learned so much about you over the course of this last year, and as you reach the end of your second year on this earth, it is amazing to see how you have become "you."

You have reached the point in your life where I can no longer describe you in generalizations like "happy," "bashful," or "calm" because you are a full and round person. You are full of contradictions and nuance. You are simultaneously eager to please and intensely stubborn. You love helping and being in the midst of things, but have learned the power behind "no" and being insistent. (Your father and I were just laughing about your habit of breaking down your words to repeat them slowly and forcefully when your request is not granted on the first--or second, or third, or fourth--attempt.) You are at once madly in love with your sister and glean great pleasure from the nuisance you can cause her. You are both calm, observing what goes on around you, and wild, choosing to let loose and free at the drop of a hat. You are fearless, but still maintain that sudden need for comfort at injury or loss.

Some things which you are, purely:

Intelligent: I am amazed at how much you know. You can count to 20. You pick up idioms and repeat them with hilarity and skill. You are already learning letters and their associated sounds. You draw abstract scribbles and then spout off lists of what those scribbles are--all of which actually look like your art. You design and carryout great plans in your play. You have surpassed your sister at this age, I think in large part due to her example, in many of the things you know. You have started attending "Toddler Lab" and come home with more words and signs and things to do than I thought a little fella could learn in just an hour. Every day you pick up more everywhere we go.

Loving: The joy I feel when I hear you call out for me, or your father, or your sister is indescribable. There is light in you, and it grows when you share it with those around you. You freely give affection, which is only just starting to transform from open-mouthed reception of kisses to puckered up smacks; from a head on the shoulder to bonafide squeezes. Your sister is your idol. You follow her everywhere and imitate her play. When she is at ballet, you cry if she disappears from the view of the one-way glass, and rejoice when she reappears. We call you our monkey-see-monkey-do because you work to be like her, you learn from her, and you love her. You are her echo and her companion. You tell her sorry and give hugs when you hurt her, and you have started sticking up for her, even if she doesn't often return the favor.

Funny: You have started making jokes, playing tricks, and expressing your awareness of your sense of humor. You are also purely boy in this matter, as much of your humor revolves around crashing things, jumping from things, scaring people, wrestling with people, and bodily functions.

Beautiful: This beauty is more than simply surface beauty, though you have always had the ability to stop people of all genders and age in their tracks. You have a smile that is nothing short of astounding--it is the same smile I knew and saw when you first began to give them: wild, pure, uninhibited, and full of that metaphorical light which words can not describe. Though it sounds like mommy-drivel, I cannot help it: when you smile your fullest and purest smile, it is literally like a glimpse of heaven and for the briefest of seconds, I feel I have entered into the presence of God. I hope the world is good to you, and you always have that ability to open heaven to those who see that grin. That smile has literally saved me from myself more times than you can know.

In this year, you have learned to run, to talk, to play, to obey, to disagree, to count, to draw, to jump, to dress, to ask, to thank, to hit, to hurt, to apologize, to forgive, and to pray. Each day you learn more, and each day I am so grateful for the tremendous gift I have been given to witness that growth and learning, even though it flies by all too quickly. Each day you learn, and each day I learn from you.

Thank you, my sweet, bright Little Bird, for calling me "Mommy," and for being you.

All my love,
Mom

{Happy Birthday, Squirrel!}

Dear, sweet little Squirrelly Girl,

Today, you turned three years old. I simply cannot understand how so much time has passed since you entered my world and changed it forever. I know it's cliche and every mother will say it, but the joy that burst upon my life the moment you, my first child, entered the world was incomparable. Because of you, I became stronger, more selfless, more joyful, more observant, more patient, and more terrified than I had ever been. Here, in this tiny bundle was my new universe. You melted your father's hard exterior and this macho, tough guy turned into a puddle of pure love for his daughter the minute you came into his life.

He has always been able to produce laughter from you that no one else can replicate. And you in turn hold his heart completely in your hands.

You are three, and in this third year, I am amazed at the person you have become:

Your language has exploded. You are precocious and talkative. In fact, some days I sit, exhausted after a day of listening to all the things you have to say. {Sometimes, at bed time, as I lie with you and try to get you to settle down, you'll sleepily prattle off all the many things that run through your head, with exclamations like, "Mommy! I am thinking of a party, with cake, and candies, and cupcakes, and gumballs, and doggies, and oh, I miss Zucchi and Titan, and brother will ride his bike, and I will ride with him and we can visit the ladies in the 'partments." I love this peek into your mind via stream-of-consciousness...} You like me to make up up stories and you like to make up stories of your own. Since your aunt Katie's wedding, every story ends with the addition from you that "they got married and lived happily ever after."

You love to see the temple. Even though it is down the street, you remind us every time we see it that it is there and it is "BEEEEAUTIFUL." I cannot wait for the day when you can enter it {which I know will come too soon, as some days I am afraid to blink because of how fast you grow}.

You love your baby brother. There are days when you don't like to share or he picks on you terribly, but for the most part, you love to help him, to reassure him, to play with him, to make him laugh. I know you will be partners in crime, as you have already begun to teach him many of your Squirrelly ways.

At three, you are shy at times and exuberantly friendly at other times. You invite yourself in to the apartments of the girls here at the dorms, and ask to follow them on their dates or to the library. We have to put you in timeout rather often lately for sneaking off to visit the "ladies," as you call them.

You love to be outside, no matter the weather. You request picnics almost every day. You like to lie on your back and look at the clouds.

You love to sing songs and make requests for us to sing together. "Tomorrow" and "My Favorite Things" have been at the top of the request list for several months now. You are finally learning to carry a tune.

You love to dance--you, poor thing, seem to have your mother's grace and sense of rhythm, but music and movement delight you, just as they always have me. I love to watch you dance with your eyes closed, moving to the beat that only you are privy to.

Just as you have been since birth, you are BUSY. You never quit moving or thinking or doing. We are practicing being "still", but it is difficult for you, who even wiggles yourself to sleep.

{Even standing still for the camera often proves to be too much...}

You are growing independent. You like to dress yourself, put on your own shoes, brush your teeth and say prayers on your own. Sometimes I stop and look at you and wonder when you started being able to do all these things alone. I feel such a sense of pride at your endless small accomplishments, so big to little old you;  at the same time, I feel such deep loss for the dependence on me that steadily vanishes.

You are empathetic. You feel sadness for sick birds and squashed bugs. You worry about us when we are sick, or upset. You comfort me when I am sad or exhausted from a long day. You try to make peace wherever you can. You tell me often that you miss Titan and Zucchini, our pugs. {This breaks my heart because they were there to welcome you home and have given you so many gifts...this empathy being one of them.}

You listen. You watch. You process more than I think you will. I am frequently astounded by the things you know and realize it is your own desire to know them, and not my ability to teach them, that has brought you that knowledge.

Your eyes are precisely the same shade of blue as mine, and I love, LOVE, when we are brushing our teeth at night, how you will always ask to squish our faces together and pronounce them to be "same-same."

You recently started telling me that we are best friends. Please know that I always wish this to be the case. That whatever, and whenever, I will listen and I will love and I will guide and protect you. Never stop being my friend, sweet thing.

You are full of mischief. While some say you have my sunny attitude and silly disposition, I know there is a naughty streak in there that can only come from your father. I have seen this look in his face in many instances and many pictures from his childhood, and I catch it on yours regularly. It is a glint in the eye that tells of cleverly devised plans just below the surface.

You are every bit as cute as you think you are, and I have to turn my face or leave the room to hide my laughter at least once a day because of the things you do.

You are uncontainable. You are full of light and laughter and so much love. When you were born, you changed my world, and yet, every day since then, it has continued to change: My capacity for love has grown with every minute of your life. My appreciation for life and joyful moments gains momentum. My desire to be the best example I can be gets stronger. And my gratitude to my Heavenly Father for sending me the WONDER that is you is unstoppable.

I love you, forever and ever and always, my sweet precious darling.
Happy Birthday!
Love,
Mom