Friday, August 30, 2013

Letter to my dragon-girl: 3.5 years

Dear Daisy,

You hit 42 months and your biggest milestone in the past six months is (drumroll, please…): this summer you learned to swim. You can now officially swim from the middle of the pool, to the ledge, pull yourself out of the water, and then before anyone can react, jump in again.

Our summer was almost cliché: swimming, a family vacation, a trip to visit relatives, a few morning hikes, summersaults across the grass at the park, trips to the library, and lots of snuggle time.

One upcoming ordinary milestone is your first day of preschool. I have been trying to follow your nonchalant attitude about this big event. And then, yesterday afternoon while eating lunch, you wondered when you were going to learn how to breathe fire at preschool. “Like dragons do, Momma. Do you think they will bring the fire trucks, you know, just in case? Do you think the fire will be hot in my nose?” And before I could interject and set your expectations correct, you launched into a story for your sister about a girl who learns to breathe fire and works with the elves to save a princess. Lions were involved too. And then, the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

Crikeys, darling, I love you at this age. I love absolutely everything about you.

That story sums up your personality at this stage: fun and creative. Besides your blossoming story crafting skills, you have been fascinated and experimenting with language quite a bit. Suddenly our house is filled with idioms and colloquiums. You ask me to “look at the big picture” or tell me that you are “not in the mood” for something (typically a nap). You are forever trying to negotiate, or as you say, “make a deal” with us. 

Additionally, you are developing more independence. You dress yourself most mornings, carefully picking out your clothes. You brush your teeth and wash your face. You set the table each night for dinner, meticulously choosing the right color cloth napkin for each person. You are anxious to learn how to read "by yourself", so many afternoons are spent playing with your letter box and practicing phonics, memorizing sight words. I love watching you gain more independence and seeing the confident young girl you are, but I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you that it is a little bittersweet watching you morph from my baby to my little girl right before my eyes. 

You brighten my life in a way I could have never imagined. So, while these last six months have been ordinary for us, to me, these ordinary moments are what make my life more beautiful.
I love you more than all the stars in the sky and the water in the ocean.

Love,  Momma