I spent part of this afternoon going through old photos to send to your teacher so she can make a little booklet of your life. I was only supposed to send three, but I ended up finding more than 15 I wanted to send because there were so many I wanted people to see.
Your big blue eyes, the dress you used to wear everywhere, your silver shoes, your short hair that used to be straight. You have gone through many phases in your three years on Earth and even the other day when I pulled out the home movies, I was shocked by how much you have changed. Because to me? You are still a baby. Even though you are a big girl who speaks in full sentences and reads and uses a real bathroom, you are still the little infant I brought home from the hospital, so wrinkled and warm and I am still the mommy who has not made any mistakes or told you no or even raised my voice.
Sadly, the latter is not true and sometimes I feel bad about how frustrated I get with you. You are a spirited, high energy child and I am sure the very qualities that sometimes make me and daddy nuts are the same ones that will make you successful and well-liked later in your life. You are a constant fireball, making us laugh and making us want to cry 90 percent of the the time.
I understand so many of the things you do because I remember doing them myself. You are my daughter through and through, but you are sensitive like your daddy and you love him more than anything in this world. When he looks at you, I can tell just how gaga he is. And don't tell him I told you this, but I saw the way he teared up the other day when you and I left on a girls' weekend at the lake house. Make no mistake little one, your daddy is your biggest fan.
You are a fire, a constant ball of energy. You want to play with things NOW and you fall into dramatic despair when things do not work exactly as you planned. You rush away from me in museums because you can't see the exhibits fast enough. Keeping up with you is a struggle and sometimes I wish you would slow down, not just because I can't keep up, but also because I want to see you soak things up, learning and processing. It just seems like you are done before I even see things sometimes.
I admire so many things about you. You potty trained yourself at 2.5, you get dressed on your own ("All myself!") You want to put your shoes on, zip your coat and walk places all by yourself. It was a struggle just to get you to learn to hold my hand in parking lots. Sometimes I wonder if you even need me at all, but then there are times like the other day, when you just run up and hug me, pressing your sweaty little head into my thighs. "I love you mommy."
Sometimes I think the reason you don't always need me is that you have a natural security and confidence. You are bold and curious, marching up to everyone with the same excited "Hi!" calling every person you meet, "my friend." But these past months you have also started having nightmares (and one night terror). You are newly scared of monsters and dragons and ghosts (even though you also kind of crave and love them. And although I want you to be unafraid and bold, I also like it a little when you need us, when you want us to hold you and when you want us to assure you everything is ok. After all, that is our job. We are your parents and I am glad you let us do at least that.
You are also so imaginative, playing by yourself for up to an hour, making up stories with your dolls (and sometimes your hands). You find new uses for everything, sometimes a little table with a pillow on it is "Sammy's couch." Other times an envelope becomes part of "tinkerbell's house." You are into fairies and butterflies and sometimes princesses and always animals. ou put us to shame with the way you put puzzles together as though they are nothing. YYou love your paper doll game and your go fishing game and all your books, from Fancy Nancy to Tinkerbell and "We Eat Dinner in the Bathtub."And everywhere you go, you cart a little sack of books with you. I love that you love reading. I love that you read to your brother while I make dinner (yes, I really love this) and I love that you are so busy in your own mind.
You amaze me Sammy. And I don't tell you enough because we are so busy in the day to day. I often can't believe that this bright, imaginative, funny, clever, articulate little girl is mine. It is nothing we did. You were just born this way. And we are lucky, lucky, lucky to call you our own.
There are amazing things in store for you. I am your mommy. And I am sure of it.