Dear Lily,
You have been asking since early January, "Is it March yet?" You couldn't wait until your birthday!
You have been planning a Pony Party since you bid your guests farewell at your 3rd birthday party, and among the people you invited were several daycare teachers and parents, most of your Wisconsin relatives, and your dental hygienist. Luckily, you haven't mastered e-vites on your dad's phone they way you have Netflix, or we would have been in for a crowd on Saturday.
You are an early riser, always quick to let us know when the day has begun. When Daddy put you to bed one night last month, you asked him to wake you the next morning with cymbals. He was happy to comply, if only to exact revenge for the weekends.
You have grown five inches this year, and people ask us fairly often if you and Maggie are twins.The two of you still have your ups and downs; you can't seem to go near Maggie without hugging and climbing on her, setting off a chain reaction of friendly wrestling followed by more aggressive wrestling followed by wailing followed by your parents shouting that you are never to touch one another again. EVER. GOOD GRIEF. You are frustrated when Maggie and her big kid friends don't include you in their shenanigans, and it's heartbreaking. Just wait, sweet girl. Your time is coming!
You are wonderfully weird, always making up songs. Maggie calls you Dr. Seuss, because you can always find a rhyme, even if you have to make up words. A couple of your ditties:
We're happy in the morning,
We're happy in the dark (pronounced "dahnk")
We have silly horns
That we like to hahnk!
and
I'm a super girl
And I have the power
To save a boy with a rope...
...
...
SHOWERRRRRRRR!
One of your latest hobbies is to take Daddy's old phone in the bathroom, then sit on the potty for an hour and watch cartoons. We stop in to check on you, and you're leaning back and relaxing, pants around ankles. You wave us away saying, "Five more minutes!"
You now recognize most of the letters of the alphabet and know their sounds (largely due to your marathon bathroom cartoon watching sessions!) We have a variation of this conversation at least once a day:
"Mom, what does R-C-N-P-U-I-T spell?"
"Rukinpooit."
"What does rukinpooit mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything, really."
"Oh...just like the other words I spelled last week?*"
*Everything in your world happened "last week."
I know every year I write about your crazy loud temper. Not much has changed in that department, but I have high hopes since the abhorrent age 3 is in the past. Your rages remain terrible but as always, when you are sweet, you are the SWEETEST.
Snuggly and affectionate, you sometimes wrap your arms around my neck and laugh, "I'm gonna hug you all day long!" More than once I've imagined you hanging around my neck all day, a lucky albatross smelling of waffles and syrup, patting my face and whispering, "Mommy? I really, REALLY love you sooooo much!" And I think to myself, "Hmmmm...if I attend all my meetings by phone, this just might work!" If I'm feeling daring, I'll bedazzle the back of your shirt and pass you off as a fashionable chunky pendant, or I'll dress you in flesh tones and claim a thyroid disorder.
All of a sudden, you don't call the fridge the "foogilator," and you don't call your Aunt Heather "Aunt Fedder." You are growing up, baby girl. My March baby, you are my Spring every day, breezy or blustery, beautiful and messy, lion and lamb, always a joy to see.
Love,
Mom
Photos by Joyce Diehls
