three years later, you might end up with something like this:
Tonight, after all the fun and frolic and celebration was tucked in bed, I said to E,
"We kept one alive for three years!"
That really is, in itself, amazing if you think about it. But even more amazing is how thoroughly our lives have been filled with you, my Sweetie Loo. At only three years old, we're already muttering, "look out, world!" because you, my little love, have big plans and no fear. What a wonderful world you live in, my Three:
"Anything is possible! Certainly we must try it!"
It is difficult to walk the line, the line where we teach you what's acceptable and right, without killing that "anything's possible! let's try it!" spirit.
When we tell you no, you cannot have a popsicle, you search the house for the "big stool", lug it to the kitchen and hop up to the freezer to have a look-see. Are there any popsicles? You just don't believe us when we say NO.
Well, we do have to work on that one, but what you don't know is that behind you, as you scurry past us with your latest plan twirling in your eyes, your father and I glance at each other and grin, and our eyes dance with delight at your cleverness and your determination and your industry! (Which, though secretly admirable, for your own good will not win you that popsicle, son, not this time.)
But my favorite thing about you, if I may be allowed to point at one of your characteristics as proof that we must be doing something right, is that you are completely comfortable in your own skin. So comfortable, that you greet everyone we meet (primarily adults!) with salutations and conversations that raise eyebrows at their precociousness. You think nothing of sauntering up to blase hipsters staring into space in cafes with a "Hi Guys! how YOU doin?" Oh and pretty girls? Forget it.
Where do you get your confidence, your social fearlessness, your love for interacting with people everywhere you go? Clearly, not from me, so I'm tagging your dad on that one. But you should know, my Three, that for your ways, Mama is so proud of you.
I love that you know the intro to James' Brown's "Sex Machine" ("Fellas, I wanna get up and do MY thing!") and that you are as excited about the number three as I would be, say, about a hundred dollar bill. I love that you run screaming to me "Hiiiiiiiii Mama!!!!!" each time, every time I come home from an errand or you come home from an outing, as if you haven't seen me for a year.
I love your love of learning. We've had to teach you almost nothing--you have learned so much on your own. This speaks to your powers of observation, which will no doubt serve you well in your future acting career (which seems inevitable). Let us not forget your interpretive dancing skills, as they are impressive and I'm not even joking. They are. I love your dancing. I love that an entire section waved Goodbye! to you as we carried you out of a Zoo Concert, your dancing had entertained them so. I love that you copy the ballerinas on your "Art" tape and that you search for my pink tank top for your "tutu" for that part. I love that you run to find whatever prop or outfit you NEED for whatever particular scene you wish to act out at any particular moment.
I love that you memorize lines from your favorite videos and songs and then use them in conversation, in the correct context!
(I even love that you swear correctly and enthusiastically--though thankfully not too frequently--for which I know I am going straight to hell but dammit it's funny. We'll work on that later.)
I can't keep up with all that you want to do with each day. You, my child (I never thought I'd hear these words come out of my mouth), make me feel old and yet at the same time, remind me of how it felt to be your age, surrounded by sedentary adults. If only they would move! If only they would look! If only they would play!
I'll try to remember more, Sweetie Loo, I will. Hopefully I'm not too old, not just yet.