Dear Jace: On Your 3rd (+) Birthday

I failed at getting Jace’s three year old birthday letter written.

I blame it on the whirlwind that is pregnancy. And rightfully so.

Today I make good.

::The birthday boy on his third birthday. September 10, 2011.::

 Buddy-

Oh my goodness kid, I adore you! You make me laugh. You help me define motherhood. You continue to show me what love means. And, on occasion, you make me want to pull my hair out. But you are my boy, and that makes me so unbelievably lucky.

You are growing up so quickly. A few weeks ago you wore the cutest little suit and tie combo to church. You looked so handsome – so incredibly big sitting there in primary. Dad and I couldn’t stop talking about how big you had become. Overnight, we swore. It made me both overwhelmed with excitement and saddened by change at the same time.

If I were to define the three year old you in one word I’d choose: superhero, hands down. Your life is a constant superhero comic strip in motion. You love anything superhero and your superhero knowledge continually astonishes me. You know their names, if they are a nice guy or a mean guy, who their enemies are, and what super powers they possess. You were batman for Halloween, your favorite pajamas are the spiderman ones from grandma, and you will only wear your superhero underwear. You sleep with an entourage of superheroes, and bring them to bath time too. Your little hand is never void of some sort of action figure. You are a superhero junkie.

Your personality is big. So full of life. You are playful and silly and a constant reminder to take time to laugh – at even the simplest of things. My favorite is when you know you are being funny. And I am truly convinced that pure joy is watching a three year old boy get a kick out of his own antics. Last night we talked about what we should name our new baby sister. You thought for a minute then started naming your top choices. What about Hulk, you said waiting for our response. Our laughter was just the reaction you wanted and so you continued…or Thor, or Batman. Maybe Dr. Doom. Your humor is all boy. Farts are funny. Strange noises entertain you and there is never an inappropriate time to act silly. You are a mini me of your dad and your wittiness, like his, always seems to catch me off guard.

You are easy going and content. You occasionally like my undivided attention, but you are more than comfortable entertaining yourself too. So different than your sister at this same age. While she needed constant entertainment, you crave that alone time. Your imagination is huge. Colorful and descriptive. And it’s fed by your time spent alone - developing your very own scripts – while at play. I love to hear your little voice having conversations with itself while I watch from the sidelines.

You are a pleaser and are happiest when others are happy. Sharing comes so natural for you. If you and Brynlee get into a battle over the same toy you are always - 100% of the time - the one that gives it up. You willingly share your treats with anybody that cares to share. The other day I treated you to some fruit snacks while out running errands. You opened the bag, got one for you and handed one to me. I declined. You gave me that pouty look that you do when your feelings have been hurt. Who am I going to share them with then, you asked. Your heart is big.

You can talk up a storm. You don’t wait for a response, for an answer, or even for acknowledgment. You just continue on…talking, like having someone to listen to the one-sided conversation is completely optional. Although you are a nonstop chatterbox when comfortable, you are quiet and reserved when the situation or environment is unfamiliar.

You idolize your big sissy. Wear size 4T clothing and size 9 shoes. You request your corn dog naked {sans breading} and love gogurt and string cheese. You adore babies, and let out an audible ahhhhhh whenever you see one. Buddy is still your nickname and is used more often than Jace around this place. You love cinnamon toast for breakfast and pink juice {crystal light} is your drink of choice. You love jumping on the bed and wrestling dad or Brynlee is also a favorite pastime. You never successfully mastered nursery, but love your new sunbeams class. You love reading books and watching superhero shows makes you happy. You are constantly asking what time it is, although the answer is a foreign language to you. But you do get the concept of one more minute or just a second, and you use the phrases often. Most often when trying to squeeze in a tiny bit more play time before doing whatever it is that mom has asked you to do. One of my favorite things is our one on one time while Brynlee is at Kindergarten. It’s fun for me to focus all of my mothering attention on you. And I think you enjoy it too. You are the best little sidekick and hanging out with you means everything to me.

I love you Bud. You bring so much color into my world. I’m the luckiest mom around.

Happy third year,
Mommy

Dear Brynlee: On Your 5th Birthday





Brynneee Boo-

My little girl, you’re five!  I can hardly believe it’s already time for me to write you another birthday letter.  One year older.  It seems a daily occurrence that dad and I comment about how big you’re getting and how fast you and your little brother are growing up on us.  I mean, you’re already five for crying out loud,

Last Thursday we registered you for Kindergarten.  Your feelings were mixed – as were mine.  Excited, nervous, overwhelmed, eager, anxious, thrilled.  You told me you were a little scared because you have to go all.day.long and that’s a really, r e a l l y, REALLY long time.  But in the same breath you told me that you couldn’t wait to go to Kindergarten to learn to read, and to meet your new teacher, and to find new friends, and to eat lunch at school.  I think with all the mixed emotions, excitement trumps them all.  You are so excited for your new adventure.  And I am so excited for you and your new adventure.  I hope that you love it.  And I think you will.

When you were younger, 1, 2, 3, even at the start of your 4^th year, you were such a shy, timid little thing.  If I had to choose one word to describe you in those first few years of life ‘shy’ would be my word.  Eye contact, conversation, social settings, people you didn’t know, even people you did know, scared you.  Not so much anymore, you are more confident in yourself and more comfortable with others.  You make friends easily, you share your opinion, you make eye contact, you stand up for yourself.  And although you would much prefer playing with a close friend to a large group of acquaintances, I would no longer chose shy or timid or reserved as my number one word to describe you.

And even though you’ve always been a bit hesitant in social settings you are fearless, a thrill seeker, adventurous still the same.  You love the ‘big rides’ at Lagoon, you go down the steepest sledding hill crossing your fingers that you will hit the bump, you learned to do flips on the tramp and ride your bike without training wheels the summer after you turned four.  You climb trees, love when dad throws you in the air, and beg to lead the way when hiking.  You jump off things, climb on things, and aren’t scared of new adventures.  A few weeks ago you attended a birthday party at a local gymnastics establishment.  They had a zip line that started at one side of the gym and finally ended in a large pit of foam squares on the other side.  One little boy, probably 9 or 10, held onto the zip line debating if he really wanted to allow his feet to leave the edge.  While he debated, you waited patiently in line.  He finally hung his head and climbed back down the ladder.  Without time for a second thought you took his place, accepted a boost from a nearby adult, grabbed hold of the zip line, and dismounted into the foam cubes.

Today when doing our morning brush and floss I noticed that you had a lose tooth.  The front, bottom one.  I got that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, because there’s no way you are old enough to be losing teeth.  You on the other hand were beyond ecstatic.  Since our neighbor girl lost her first tooth at five, you think that losing teeth is the age five rite of passage.  We were at Aunt Jami’s house and you insisted on making a phone call to dad at work to let him know.  And the rest of the day you sang made-up songs about your teeth falling out.  My teeth are fallin’ out, my teeth are fallin’ out, I’m getting so big ‘cause my teeth are fallin’ out.  And then at bedtime tonight you prayed a hopeful prayer “. . . and thank thee that my tooth will fall out tomorrow!”

Tyson is your best little pre-school buddy.  You adore him.  He taught you to whistle, to properly shoot a basketball at McDonalds, and he draws you the cutest little homemade cards – pictures of the two of you hand drawn on a sheet of notebook paper.   And there is never a pre-school day gone by that you don’t remind me how much you like playing with your best friend, Tyson.  Your friendship is sweet.

This year you took pre-school from Miss Lori, and you have enjoyed every minute of it.  You love Farr’s play-doh ice-cream, your new Webkinz, riding your bike, and going to Outer Limits.  You idolize your Aunt Marie.  And your cousins, Brookee and Livvie, are two of your closest friends.  The other day you came home from pre-school frustrated because one of the taller girls in the class said you were way too short to be a five-year-old.  You wear 4T clothes and last week you outgrew your size 8 tennis shoes.  Sun dresses or skirts and leggings are your clothing of choice.  You will not wear tights, even to dance class.  You can’t stand them.  You enjoy reading hour at the library, family home evening and your dance classes.    You are observant and attentive and a very good listener.  You remember things and notice things that I easily over look and you come home from primary or pre-school and retell me the exact lesson or story that you learned in class that day.  You want to do good, to make people happy, and you get the most guilty of conscious if you do something you know is wrong.

You and Jace are constantly wrestling.  At home in the toy room, on the tramp, on the kitchen floor, at the department store, in sacrament meeting.  Not fighting, just wrestling.  And you both are so content rolling around on the floor trying to win a wrestling match.  It makes me laugh.  Your brother adores you and always tries to make you happy.  If his big sister needs some water, he races to the kitchen to get you a drink.  If his big sister needs her stuffed animal, you better believe he is on the hunt to find it.  And in return you protect your little brother.  One of my favorite things is when you tell him “Jace buddy, you are such a handsome little fellow.”

Brynlee, I love you so much.  I take so much pride in raising you and your little brother.  Being a mother fulfills me in a way that nothing else ever could.  I’m so lucky!  And I know it. 

XOXO,

Mom





Dear Jace: On your second birthday

Buddy-

As much as I feel inclined to start this letter in the cliché "how can you be getting so big so fast" manner. . . I'm going to try to refrain myself. As much as I want to reminisce about how I use to snuggle your tiny newborn head between my shoulder and my face. . . I won't. And although I feel the need to tell you that I haven't the slightest clue as to when you got big enough to talk and color and wrestle {and throw tantrums}. . . I'm not going to allow myself. Instead I'm going to focus on the part of you that makes me the absolute happiest right now. The two-year-old you, the big boy you, the you that I love so much. And although it's true, I can't believe you're getting so big so fast, I also would never be willing to trade my time with you, at this age, for anything. Even a littler model. Because you're two, and although I can't believe it, I love it!

Right now, as I type, you and I are sharing fruit loops. Malt o' meal straight out of the bag. I'm sitting criss-cross-applesauce on a barstool and you, still in your footie pajamas, on the counter. You carefully pick a fruit loop for yourself, then without hesitation grab a chubby two-year-old handful for me. I continue typing while you stuff my face with fruit loops, most of which land on my lap or on the floor or on the barstool. But you don't care. And neither do I.

Oh my goodness, Jace, you are such a fun kid. Our lives have been so sweetly blessed by you joining our little family. You're definitely where you belong. And I can't get enough of you. No matter how much I try I can't get enough of your kisses; you lean in close, lips almost touching my cheek, then make kissing noises. Adorable. And the way you say thank-you. Dank-ouu. And in the cutest little boy voice. Melts my heart. And you're little blonde head and your blue eyes that sparkle the same shade as Grandpa's. All of you, I can't get enough of it.

And although sister complains sometimes about Jace Buddy doing this or Buddy doing that, she is protective of her little brother as a mother bear of her baby cubs. Today when we dropped her off at preschool she gave me a kiss then ran back to your seat and gave you a kiss. She grabbed her backpack, headed out the van door, then changed her mind and came back and gave you one more kiss before she left. And as much as she loves you and protects you, I think you idolize her even more. You copy e.very.thing your sister does. Everything. You copy what she says, how she sits, what she wants to eat. You're her shadow. Her echo. Her sidekick. Where there's a Brynlee, there's a buddy.

And you and your dad, Jace. I love it. I'm sitting here trying to put into words your relationship. Cool? Beautiful {in a very manly way, of course}? Loving? Perfection? It's a bond that only a father and a son can share. It's different than your and my bond. And different still from dad and Brynlee's bond. I overheard dad telling you the other day that he can't wait until your old enough to go watch all the "boy movies" with him. We're going to watch them all, he said, every single good boy movie ever made. And you will, I don't doubt that. But for now you two wrestle, you "punch", he gives you horsie back rides, sometimes you cry when dad has to leave for work, and you are always the first one to greet him when he walks in the door again. I think you and dad will always have that bond. You're so much alike, made for each other, the perfect father and son team.

We went to your two year doctor appointment last week. You weighed 28.4 pounds {50%} and were 36 inches tall {79%}. You hate nursery. Love naptime. And wrestling. You live for hotdogs. And squeal when daddy gets home from work. You call 'jumping on the tramp' bonka bonka and love to pretend you're a dog. You call yourself "buddy" and say "no, I'm buddy" if anyone ever tries to correct you. Your dad calls your uncontrolled laughter your "fat boy laugh" and we hear it often. You wear 3T clothes and size 7 shoes. You think your sister is hilarious and you copy her every move. You love outside. And every.single.time you're given the opportunity to purchase a treat you pick a pink sucker and a blue laffy taffy. You know your colors. Orange, pink and black are your favorites to spot. Pink was the first color you learned, thanks to your big sister. And for a while you called the color white, milk. You've discovered a new found love for trains and have recently become obsessed with your mega-blocks. You adore you're Aunt Maire and jumping on/off furniture. You hate haircuts and getting your teeth brushed. You know all the characters on Spongebob by name. You have beautiful eyes and the cutest little raspy voice. And your run makes my heart skip. You sleep with your "yahyah"{silky: which is actually a small piece of my undershirt} and your "more"{sippy cup}. And you make us all so very happy.

Happy second year, little buddy. I love you forever and ever. And then some.

Mommy

birthday love notes

a birthday love note on
the underconstruction bathroom wall

Hey Spence. Do you remember back when we first started dating and we went on a walk around the college campus? The sprinklers were on in front of the BA building and like a true gentleman you thought it would be funny {maybe flirty} to throw me in front of the sprinklers. I didn't go down without a fight though. And after the whole ordeal we both continued the walk exhausted and soaking wet.

And then remember how, as if to get revenge, I thought it would be funny {maybe flirty} to do that little number where you kick someone in the back of the knee to make their legs buckle. Because I think things like that are funny. And so I did it. Perhaps over did it. Remember how I kicked you so hard that your legs gave out and you tumbled to the sidewalk. So sorry about that.

Looking back I'm not sure why you didn't yell "sayonara, baby," make a mad dash to the "Tool" truck and burn rubber in true escape fashion. I'm not sure why instead you laughed, got back up, brushed the dirt off your wet clothes, and held my hand. I'm not sure why you decided to stick around. But I am sure of one thing . . . I'm glad you did!!

XOXO,
Kim

Happy 32^nd year {yesterday} to the love of my life and to the most patient and forgiving man I know.

And fun. 
Did I mention he's fun?
Happy birthday to the most patient, forgiving and FUN man I know.

Dear Brynlee: On your 4th birthday

My Brynlee,

You're four! Four-years-old. I can't believe it.

The other day, on the way home from the dentist, you and I had a talk about growing up. You told me that someday you will be the mommy and I will be the grandma. And when that happens you will take your kids to the "kid dentist" and you will have to go to the "mommy and daddy dentist". The dentist where you "don't even get to pick a prize"! And someday, you said, you and the daddy will want to go watch a mommy and daddy movie. And so you and the daddy will go to the movies. And I'll be the grandma, so I will stay home and babysit your kids!

And you're right. Someday that will happen. Someday you will be all grown-up. Someday you won't need me to snuggle you before bed, or tell you that you can't have a treat before dinner. Someday you will insist that pigtails are for babies, and pink is no longer your favorite color. Someday, when you're the mommy, you will understand the extent to which a mother loves her daughter.

I'm afraid that, that someday, is much sooner than any mommy would ever want it to happen. 

And because of that I'm going to love you. Cherish you. Hug you. As MUCH as I possibly can.  And believe me, that's a whole lot!

****

You have absolutely loved pre-school with Miss Jenni. I was visiting with Miss Jenni the other day and she proudly charged you as being one of her best students. EVER. Which is quite a compliment as she's taught years of pre-school and you are a year younger than the age group of kids that she usually teaches. She said that you grasped concepts quickly, are excellent at following directions and are always kind and considerate of your classmates and their feelings. It made me proud. I was nervous when we first signed you up for preschool. I was nervous because you were nervous. You have always been extremely bashful and timid in unfamiliar situations. I knew that pre-school would help you overcome a lot of these anxieties, but I was nervous still the same. Pre-school has helped you come out of your shell. When you were younger you would hide your little face and not respond when anyone acknowledged you or talked to you. You don't do that anymore. You're still fairly reserved in new or unfamiliar situations, but your timidness is accompanied with a quiet confidence.

You are very observant. You love to watch, examine and take in all that is going on around you. You remember details that I forget or never notice in the first place. Because you usually don't enjoy being center of attention, you instead spend a lot of your time listening and observing. Nothing goes unnoticed with you.

Arts and crafts are by far your favorite pastime. You love to create. You deliver handmade cards to dad, Jace and I at least once a day. You love to make bead necklaces, to make "books" by stapling together all your freshly colored masterpieces, and to paint, draw and color. Your new favorite thing is to print coloring pages off the internet. You could do it all day if I would allow. Your artwork is creative and colorful. It always makes me happy.

About a year ago you and I made a deal; as long as you stayed in your clothes all day long you could chose what you did or didn't wear to bed. To this day you sleep in your underwear. Every night you put on your pajamas. We'll brush teeth, go potty, say prayers, tell stories and then when it's time to go to bed you'll ditch your pajamas before finding comfort between your blankets.

Pink is your favorite color. Tom and Jerry your favorite cartoon. And you absolutely love vanilla ice cream on an ice-cream cone. You hate socks, having "boogies", taking any kind of medicine, and when your hair gets in your face. You wear 3T clothing and a size 8/9 shoe. You have learned to "pump" on the swing and are trying to learn to jump rope. You aren't into dolls or dress-up but love stuffed animals. You love to go on treasure hunts around the house. You will put on your backpack, put a headband around your forehead, turn on a flashlight and inspect the house for "gadgets" gathering bobby pins, stickers, toys and whatever else you happen across.

You're very particular about how you like things. A bit of a perfectionist. You like your blankets to be straight. If your pants or shirt sleeves are to long they must be rolled up. Twice. And they must be rolled evenly. Your socks must be without crease. Every toy must be taken out of the tub before you will wash your hair. I suppose you get these characteristic from me. But sometimes, my dear, it's extreme.

Your dad is your best friend. You love him. Long to be with him. It's perfectly sweet; your two's relationship. At bedtime it's my job to get you ready for bed and then dad's job to tell you stories. You have your dad's imagination and his stories feed your mind. I can push you on the swing, but dad pushes you higher. I can jump with you on the tramp, but dad throws you in the air while jumping. I can get you cereal, but dad gives you more. Dad's your hero. You idolize him.

Brynlee, you are such a joy. To me. To your dad. And to your little brother.

We love you, all of you. And wouldn't change a thing about you.

Happy Birthday, my beautiful four year old.
Love you bigger than the sky,
Mom

Dear Jace: On Your 1st Birthday

Little Jace Buddy,

You’re one! How fast the time went. I can’t believe it’s been a year. You make me smile. You bring me joy. You are such a great addition to our little family.

As I type this letter you and I are playing peek-a-boo. I am sitting on the couch with the laptop on my lap. Your chubby little hands are holding on to my knees. Every few seconds you pop your head out from behind the laptop and squeal with excitement. Once acknowledged you laugh. That engaging, from the bottom of your gut, laugh. Your laugh makes me laugh. Causing you to laugh harder. Louder. And making the next peek-a-boo even more exciting and somehow even funnier than the previous one. I love you!

Jace, you have the best little personality. As a small baby you never cried or fussed. Really, never. As long as I kept you fed and your diaper changed you were happy. People often marveled at your laidback personality and commented on how content you were. I can probably count on one hand the times that you cried without reason. You were easily comforted and were patient with me as I learned to adjust to our new life with two kids. That laidback personality that you had as an infant only continues to develop and shine.

You’re a tease. A BIG tease. From the moment you started being able to interact and understand you have also teased. You love the reaction, that attention that it causes. The first time I let you sit next to your sister in the Costco shopping cart, I knew we were in for it. You were about four months old. You were so excited; giddy even, to sit there next to her. You were close enough that you could pull her hair and make her squeal. And when she would, you would giggle and reach up to harass again. You’re a clown. You’re happy. You love to laugh. And when you laugh everyone laughs with you. Your giggle is contagious.

You’re a healthy little boy. Since birth you’ve only had one cold and it was short lived. And aside from your doctor check-ups and shots you have only visited the doctor one time. You kept pulling at your ears so I concluded that you had an ear-infection. You didn’t. And I’ve since learned that you pull at your ears when you are uncomfortable, tired or embarrassed.

When I nursed you, you would take hold of my undershirt rubbing the silky material between your fingers. At about eight months you suddenly began waking during the night. You wanted me to hold you. Rock you. You would fall asleep holding onto my silky undershirt. The minute I would lay you down in your crib, you would awake and would want me to hold you again. In a desperate attempt to get some sleep, I cut up an old undershirt and let you sleep with it. You held it tightly, rubbing the material between your fingers. And, you slept through the night. You still fall asleep rubbing the material between your fingers and sleep with your “silky” clinched tightly in your little fist.

At about nine months you turned into a squawker. You squawk when you’re hungry. When you’ve eaten too much. If you’re tired. Or just woke up. You squawk at your sister. At the neighbor kids. And at the ladies in Relief Society. You squawk if you want picked up. Or put down. You squawk.

You know how to wave. Clap your hands. Go down the slide all by yourself. Climb the stairs. And the ladder to the trampoline!! You will walk along or behind anything, but still aren’t quite confident enough to walk unassisted. You love to pick stuff up and put it in bags, baskets or another container. You love the phone and are continually putting your hand up to your ear and “talking/squawking” on it. You entertain yourself easily. You eat anything and everything. You have beautiful blue eyes and a ton of hair. By the time you were ten months I had already given you six haircuts. You have always slept in your own crib and have recently decided that you only need one daytime nap. You give the best hugs and slobbery kisses.

You and your big sister are the best of friends. Brynlee worries about you and is always trying to protect you. You tease her, hug her and wrestle her. From day one Brynlee has called you her Buddy. I often have to remind her that your real name is Jace and we just call you Buddy as a nickname. The first thing she said when I picked her up from her first day of preschool was, “Was Jace Buddy crying? Did he miss me?” She loves you and I often over hear her saying, "Buddy, I love you!" J

ace, you're the best little boy. My little boy. I love to hold you. Snuggle you. Tickle you. And hear you laugh. You make me so happy. I love you so much. Happy 1st Birthday Buddy!

Love you always and forever,
Mom

Dear Brynlee: On Your 3rd Birthday

Last Sunday Brynlee turned three-years-old. We ended up celebrating her birthday a little earlier in the week while Zeb, Jami and Brooke were down for a visit. Jami and I hung balloons and streamers and made cupcakes while Zeb and Spencer put together the new birthday trampoline. She had a fun day and is already talking about her next birthday. In honor of Brynlee’s birthday I wanted to borrow an idea from my ever-so-talented and creative friend, Katie, who writes a yearly letter to her kids. Thanks Katie for the great idea! So here is to Brynlee on her third birthday:

***************

Sweet Brynlee,

I can’t believe that you are already three-years-old! It seems like just yesterday we brought you home from the hospital in your little polka-dotted car seat, your little pink beanie hat and pink blanket engulfing you. Sometimes I look at you and see that strong-minded nine month old with fist clinched to the side of the crib, or that curious one-year old with the wobbly, unpracticed walk. I can still hear your little newborn squeak, your early evening colic cry and your thirteen month old jibber-jabber.

Last summer you and I spent countless hours walking around the neighborhood. You would ride your little red tricycle continually stopping to collect all sorts of nature in the pint size trunk. Every time you stopped to pick up “a prize for your collection” I would have to give you a push start to get the wheels moving again. It was a guarantee that about half way around the block you would tire of peddling. Consequently, I would finish the walk with your tricycle on one hip, you on the other and a very pregnant belly in the center.

It has finally warmed up enough for us to venture out on our nature walks again. And like clockwork your pint size trunk has started accumulating “prizes for your collection”. But this time it’s different. You no longer need my help. You no longer need me to steer around the sharp corners. You not longer need a push start. You no longer tire of the peddling and need to finish the trip in my arms.

You are becoming so independent. You can dress and undress yourself (in fact, you get a little offended when we try to help), you can put on your own shoes, brush your own teeth, buckle your own carseat and use the restroom and wash your hands without our help. And yesterday you informed us that you are so big you don’t even need to use the potty seat on the big potty anymore. You love to cut, color, paint and paste. There is never a day that ends without a pile of newspaper, coloring pages and computer paper clippings on the rug under your little table. You can spend hours drawing pictures then cutting them up into tiny, tiny pieces.

You also love to go grocery shopping. We play a game of “I Spy” in which I will tell you what is on the list and you scan the aisles until you see it. You love to use the self-checkout so you can scan the groceries and bag them all by yourself. At home you push around your little grocery cart loading it up with toys, books and food items to purchase. Often times you call me on your play cell phone to ask what I need you to buy or to tell me the prices of different items in your toybox.

You love to observe. Since you are quite shy you spend a lot of time sitting back and just watching. I am always amazed at what you pick up and remember. You remember places, people and details. You love to “read” (retell) your library books to dad, Jace and I and I am always shocked at how well you know the story after just hearing it once.

Last week, I took you to the 3-5 year old book readers at the library. Now that you are in the older class you go by yourself. I sat outside on the bench and watched you through the window. You were so big, so grown-up singing your nursery rhymes and listening to the stories. When you got out of the class you said, “There is lots to do when you’re three, huh mom?”

Brynlee, I love to watch you love your little brother. From the moment Jace joined our family you have been a wonderful big sister to him. I often look back in the rear view mirror to find you and Jace both buckled in your carseats with your arms stretched out so you can hold hands. You are continually asking to, “See that little buddy” or “Hold that little fellow”. You sing to him. You read him stories. You share your toys with him. You worry about him. You make him laugh. You LOVE HIM! And I love that about you.

You are also a huge fan of your daddy. If given the choice of playing with other little kids your age or playing with your daddy, dad would ALWAYS win. You love to be with him. You two play all sorts of made-up games together and dad is always willing to do the things that mom tires of quickly. If asked who you’re best friend is you’d say, “My daddy!” and it’s true.

I love how freely you tell us that you love us and one of my favorite things is when I tell you that I love you and you say, “whuv you too, mama”.

Brynlee, you are an incredible little girl with a brilliant zest for life. Your dad and I love your energy, your spirit, your heart. And we are truly blessed to be your parents!

Love you always my little-three-year old,
Mom

*picture by sfoto*