You are the most fun. You are silly and sweet, careful, funny, stubborn, so smart, compassionate, cute, and ornery as all get out. Today you are three, and there is almost nothing babyish about you anymore. You are tall and strong, you run and jump and climb and skip and do things I couldn't imagine a year ago.
This year your speech blew up. Watching videos from year ago, I'm amazed at how much your vocabulary expanded. I love (and appreciate) how well you communicate, and how curious you are about new words. I hope it means you are a book lover like your mom, but who knows.
You are definitely a music lover like your mom. You want to know who sings every song you hear on the radio. You can hear a song once then sing it back days later when you ask me to play it for you again. It's so much fun to see that in you. We take turns choosing songs to listen to in the car, and you keep careful track of whose turn it is. You especially like Elvis Costello's "Angel's Want to Wear My Red Shoes" and "Veronica," and you have a list of songs you discovered on your own, too. I hope we keep taking turns for a very long time.
You love to cook with me, and breaking eggs is your favorite, although whether you get to depends on my mood. You love helping (including sweeping the kitchen, feeding Gracie, and putting away the silverware), and hate to be left out (although you will voluntarily keep your distance if you are in a new situation and not comfortable yet). You've gotten more social this year, and while you still won't say "hello" and "goodbye" unless prompted (and sometimes threatened with timeout), you've gotten a lot better.
You adore your daddy, and he adores you. You two play and tumble and sing and make silly noises and have so much fun together. I'm so glad you two get to be together, and I get to see what you bring out in each other. You discovered he makes a pretty good horse this year, and he can still pick you up and throw you around without much effort. It's your favorite. He thinks you are growing up too fast, but he's coping with this whole "preschool" thing.
You start preschool in a couple weeks and you are so excited. I am excited for you, but also nervous. Nervous that the other kids will taint your sweetness and add words to your vocabulary that I'm not ready for. Like "fat" and "stupid" and other horrible things people say to each other (funnily enough, this bothers me more than cursing). I know, without a doubt, that you are ready. You've gotten a little bored at home with me all day, even though we go to the library and gym class and dance. You are ready for a new challenge. I will miss you in the morning, but I'll probably get a lot done. Your narrative and mine are going to start separating, our stories won't be quite so the same anymore. But I can't wait to hear yours.
I love you, and I really enjoy the person you are.
Love, Mom
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