Dear Sabrina –
It is hard to believe that today, you are 3 years old. Hard to believe because you simultaneously seem much younger and much older than that number. I can’t help but think back to the day you were born, when the doctor popped you little head over the curtain, and you showed us your dimples. My first thought was, “Uh oh, here comes trouble.” I had no idea how on the money I was. And I mean that in the best possible way.
You are such a little sponge, especially when you’re around your brother and his friends, and as a result, you say and do things no 3 year old I’ve ever known can say or do. I’m convinced you have an internal database of not only every cartoon or child-marketed character ever design or ever will be designed, but just about any marketable logo known to man. The other day, you saw me working on the taxes and shouted out, “TurboTax!” I was stunned, not only for your correct knowledge on the name, but also that you thought it was some cool video game that I should play repeatedly. Once a year is plenty, my dear. You are fiercely independent when you want to put your shoe and socks on by yourself (or take them off, despite the temperature), but come running to dance with me whenever you hear music playing. Consequently, you’re a sucker for Dancing with the Stars. Yes, Sweetie, Mama has lots of guilty pleasures, and in due time, I’ll share them with you, so you can annoy your father right along with me.
Those dimples are still amazing, and they tend to pop out when you’re intent on causing chaos, which is most of the time. You only have 1 speed, full, and you run around like a tornado, blond hair whirling around your head (which you HATE having brushed) and giggles streaming behind you in your wake. I can already see you changing for chubbly little cherub to a lanky, wild-limbed girl, and that is bittersweet, letmetellyou.
With Sammy in school, you are my partner in crime, and what fun we have. You find such delight in running simple errands. If you would just stop grabbing things you shouldn’t be touching, it could be even better. You’ve even been a good girl at library story time, flooring me by being quiet and still, 2 things more rare in you than a double rainbow. You expect treats at every turn, and although I’m trying desperately to instill some sense of discipline in you, inside, I would love to give them to you, every single time. You are a charming little devil.
You are beyond excited that you get to go to preschool in the fall, even though I suspect you would prefer joining your brother’s class (you already seem to think you’re a member of that group). But, Little One, to get there, you’re going to have to drop some of that highly refined stubbornness of yours and get on with the potty training already. I know you can do it; you’re just digging in your heels to watch my head explode. Very cute. But if you’d just do it, you’d see a whole new world of Big Girl Things open up for you. I know all this will happen in the coming months, probably more quickly than I can imagine. You’ll be that Big Girl before I know it.
I simply adore you, precious girl. You infuriate me, charm me, confound me, and make my heart burst with more love that I could ever envision. You are a unique spirit, and I love learning more and more about the person you are every day.