You are three and a half. Or, as you would say, thee-an-a-HALF! Extra emphasis on the half, of course.
Oh my, you are such a little girl now. The baby chub is gone - long gone in fact. You're all bones now. Bony knees and elbows that dig into me when you crawl into bed in the wee hours of the morning. (Yes, that's your new trick and to be honest - I haven't the heart to kick you out - yet).
But while you're looking more and more like a little girl, there are still so many reminders of toddlerhood, as if it's trying as hard as I'd like it to, to keep it's hold over you. The toddler pot-belly you get after a big meal. The stumble-y toddler klutziness that comes when you're over-tired. The toddler pronunciation of so many words still.
And yet.. you've started calling me "ridiculous" (where'd you get that from, huh?). You want to use a knife to cut up your own meat. You can (but don't always) drink out of a "big girl" cup.
You count. You reason. You deduce. Hell, you find loopholes in the "rules" we give you.
You negotiate (very well, I might add). You dress yourself ("Does this match?" you're constantly asking). You compliment and share and act so considerately of other little friends that my heart just wants to burst with pride.
You stand with your hands on your hips in defiance if you're pissed at me about something. You tell me "I'm angry at you momma!" You test my limits and watch me try to rein in my frustration and temper and I can see when you're just pressing my buttons for the sake of it, because your eyes squint up in mischief while doing so.
You can exasperate me with your dawdling. And yet, so many times, you are dawdling because you're seeing things, noticing things that I never would have looked at. "Lookit that bird over there momma - why won't he fly over here and sit on my hand?" That was our first red robin of spring you saw the other day - and I probably would have missed it in my rush to the car, had it not been for you.
You colour oh so well these days - and take great pleasure in deciding just what colour to choose for the princess' dress. And you draw - you can draw FACES! And people (well, 4 lines for arms and legs coming directly out of the head - but it's effing awesome is what it is). And you so badly want to be able to write your name - so we practice - M-M-M-M-M-M-M - you try to write M's all day long.
You are such a picky eater that it makes my head explode - and yet, I think (knock-on-wood-knock-on-wood) that we are coming back around on this curve as you are more willing to try "one bite" or "just a taste" of things more and more instead of point blank refusing. Often you end at just that one bite, but the victory in just getting you to taste more foods is, in itself, sweet enough for now.
You sing. You dance. You're constantly performing and joking and laughing and trying to make us laugh. You insist everyone around you is "a clown!" - knowing perfectly well that it is, in fact, you that is the clown.
We started a new family tradition this year - to celebrate half-birthdays. No fancy party. Just a family affair.
For this half-birthday we went out, just you and Mommy, to see a Max & Ruby live show in Oshawa and then out to a restaurant for dinner. It was your first theatre experience and you loved it. Getting up in the aisles to dance or jump and clap - you couldn't hold the excitement of just watching your favourite characters up on stage - you had to move to express it. And then, at the restaurant, I introduced you to my childhood favourite - the Shirley Temple. You declared it DEEEEEELISHUS and only for fancy girls (like us) on fancy days (like your half-birthday).
I had such a fabulous time with you and I'm pretty sure you had a great time too. I hope it was a half-birthday to remember, although I know you probably won't. But I will. For both of us.
Love you my little boo.