Three Years

Dear Peeper:
You are three years old today. I hardly even know what to say to follow that, because it just seems so surreal.

I'm still not sure I've completely gotten my head around the fact that we were actually lucky enough to get pregnant and to have you, and here it is, three years later, and you are still just the most amazing thing ever.

Every single day, you do something that blows my mind, crack me up, or melts my heart - and usually all three.

In no particular order:

You asked me to "help" you put together the puzzle that Aunt J gave you for your birthday. I started picking up pieces, and asked you to give me some, but instead you said, "Do you fing, Mama," and went off to play with something else.

We were lying on the couch nursing, and you asked to switch sides. Before latching on the other side, you said, "Oh! What a beautiful goody!"

When we eat in restaurants that serve food in those red plastic baskets, you like to put them on your head and announce, "I am a fi-fightuh!" Recently, you had a green one, so instead, you said, "I am a 'astruction workuh!" When I told you that some firefighters have green hats, you said, "So, I am a fi-fightuh!"

At the same restaurant, there were lots of Halloween decorations, including one with a picture of a witch on her broomstick. You told me "I fink she da Wicked Witch a da East," and when I asked you why, you said, "Cause she have stripey socks."

Last week, when I came home from my MOMS Club meeting, you met me at the door, pointed your finger at me and said, "How was you meeting?"

You refer to small, utilitarian things (such as bowls or shoes) as "Peeper-size," and other small things as "wee widduw." (Thank you, Baby Bear, from Sesame Street.)

You refer to your body parts as "widduw" too, as in "Oh, dat's hot! I burn my widduw tongue!"

The other day, you were running around the backyard in nothing but a pair of panties. It was a bit chilly out, but very sunny, so you kept running over by the house and saying "Oh, it's cold in da shade!" and then back out into the sun, saying "Oh, it feews good!"

You love to put the dog's old "cone of shame" over your head and say, "I am a astronaut!"

You are all about queens, but refer to the Disney Princesses as "Dose siwwy wadies."

You can pretend to be a firefighter, astronaut, queen, doctor and butterfly, all within the span of an hour.

When you ask one of your toys, or one of the animals, a question, and we try to answer in our own voice, you tell us, "No! You not tell it. I askin' (BoyCat / Elmo / Worm / Pumpkin . . . )!" Then you ask then again, and we answer in a fake voice, and you are completely satisfied.

You've had a couple of sips of soda and do not like it at all. You will, however, mooch coffee or tea off of us all day long if we let you. (As we both drink decaf, we usually do let you.)

You don't like orange flavored anything. But you do seem to like sour apple.

Lately, you've not been liking peanut butter, or even those delicious peanut butter cookies that I make. Except on sundaes at the ice cream stand around the corner. You're still requesting it there.

Sugar cookies are, by far, your favorite. Especially if there's icing involved. Actually, I think you may just be in it for the icing.

You love butter, and would eat it with a spoon if I let you. Actually, the other day, I did let you have a one-pat container at a restaurant and you did eat it with a spoon, and then declared "Oh, dat's dewishus!"

After taking a big sip of water, you say "Ahhh - wefweshing!"

You also say that when I wipe your booty with a cold washy, especially in the morning. "OH! Dat's wefweshing!"

You have your Mama's sweet tooth, and would eat candy all day long if we'd let you. We try very hard not to let you.

When I tell you that you need to have some "anytime food" instead, or as well as, whatever you've requested, you're usually pretty good about it, although it might take several suggestions before I hit on something that you want. Often it's a cheese stick, especially the past few days, but more often it's an apple or cheesy (or both) rice cake. And we don't buy the little yummy kind, they are the big styrofoamy kind.

But Grandma does buy the little yummy ones, and we both eat lots of them when we're visiting. On our last visit, you were really liking the sweet chili flavor, with shredded cheese melted on them. After eating them, you asked to wash your hands to "get dat greasy stuff offa dem." Where the hell did you learn the word "greasy?"

Lately, you've ditched the word "wet" in favor of "watery." As in, "Change my pants, dey aw watuwy!" (This was from spillage, not pee-pee.) or "My hands aw stiww watuwy!" after washing them. (I tried to explain that the paper towel is just for the sake of appearances, and the real drying happens on the legs of your pants.)

On the other hand, you seem to be confused between the words "clean" and "dry." You often use "dry" when you mean "clean." Sometimes it works fine, other times, not so much. Like the other day, when you weren't sure if a cup of water was new and clean or old and yucky, so you asked me "Is it dwy watuw?"

I know you're just now three, but it kind of surprised me when you started mixing those up, firstly because you seemed to know them a couple of weeks ago, but also because they are pretty simple words / concepts, compared to some of the other things in your vocabulary.

Like "hypothesis," and "liquid" and "Does it stand up very well?" 

When you are trying to do something that's not working out, you get frustrated and complain about it, saying, "Ugh - Twying to . . . ." which is quite helpful, because at least we have a clue how to help.

You know all your letters, and often ask what various words start with. If we emphasize the beginning sound, you can usually figure out what the letter is.

You can count to twenty (with the exception of fourteen and sixteen, I think) and are getting much better with one-to-one counting, although you often fail to stop counting when you run out of things.

You're also starting to be able to look at a group of objects and say that there are two, three or four of them, without actually counting.

You love your doggies and your kitty and pretty much all living things. When there are bugs in the house, you want us to "put him out side wif his famiwy" and don't understand why we can't catch flies and mosquitoes and put them outside, too.

Once I was trying to smush a big-ass spider in the bedroom without you knowing, but you made it very difficult by asking "What his name?"

After a promising start with your "big girl bed" we blew off that project when we all got sick. You slept in it for a good bit of the night on Saturday, though, because A and J had slept in it the night before and, "When A and J sept in my big guh bed, I fought I wanted to seep in it."

Speaking of sleep, we're still trying to get back to a consistent nine-ish bedtime, a month after our month-long illness. If you don't nap, there's a pretty good chance at it, but if you do, we're usually pretty screwed.

The potty thing is coming along, slowly. You are very good at going when you sit, and you're mostly agreeable about sitting when we ask you to, but you do not tell us when you have to go, at all. I think you have a total of like three stickers for "Uh oh! Gotta go!" on your chart, and all of those were sort of stretches.

But, we have been talking a lot about how "When you're three years old, you'll wear panties or training pants all the time! And only wear diapers at night!" We have a few pairs of panty-style training pants that are big enough to add some extra absorbency, and in about a month, we expect to get some of the new bumGenius trainers, that have replaceable washable liners in a reusable shell, so hopefully one of those systems will catch enough pee when necessary to not require any clean ups on aisle three at Target, but will be easy enough to pull and and down to start going to the potty in public.

Or, I should say, to continue going to the potty in public - because a few days ago, you went in the potty at Target!

Of course, we spend a lot of time at Target.

Our trips generally start with a stop at Starbucks for a "pink cake pop" for you and a "decaf latte" for Mama. (And a few sips for Peeper.) And a chat with the baristas, who all love you, of course.

Who wouldn't, right?

I could just go on and on about you, kiddo.

Oh, I guess I do, don't I? But how could I not?

You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, my proudest accomplishment, the answer to my life-long wish, my reason for being, my everything.

And, today, although I can hardly believe it, you are my three year old little girl.

I love you more than you can possibly imagine.

Happy birthday, Roodly-Toodle.


Love,
Mama