My big little girl

When you have a child, time passes uniquely. The minutes and hours can stretch out like afternoon shadows on autumn days but the months and years speed like a rocket heading for space.

So go my postings, and intentions to post.

You have so much to say these days, so many words, so many ideas. You have opinions, strong opinions of what you want to do when. You remember if I promised earlier we'd go to the aquarium to see the fish. You know how to use "you" and "me" appropriately so I no longer need to speak of myself in third person as in "Mommy wants more tea."

You love to pretend. You pretend to have tea, you pretend your plush animals are sleeping. You like to make sure they are covered in blankets to keep warm, I suppose like I do to you. You like to do things "like mommy." The other day you were very upset that you were wearing overalls and I was wearing yoga pants. You wanted to wear yoga pants "like mommy" so Daddy came up with a fabulous idea - that Mommy would wear overalls too (which you say as "o-vey-alls"). You love to do things and be like mommy or daddy. You love it even more when we do things "like Ava." If the highest form of flattery is imitation, I am abundantly flattered.

You don't like so much to sit in your booster seat at the dinner table and want to sit in your own chair. You love oatmeal best of all for breakfast, and often other times in the day if you can get away with it. I figure if you always ask for oatmeal, but don't ask for cheetos or ice cream, I'm doing something right.

You often announce that you're "going to the store to get food" or "going to Trader Joe's." We ask you "what kind of food?" and you respond (usually) with "oatmeal and cranberries and walnuts" - our typical accompaniment.

You mostly listen when I ask you to stay close to Mommy in traffic, you mostly listen when it's time to go to bed, you mostly listen when I want kissies and hugs because I'm leaving to go to work or you to school. I figure since you're nearly three years old that mostly is good enough. I'd get spoiled by perfection anyway.

You don't mind the nose plunger (aka booger puller) to clear your congested nostrils, and often request the "nose thingy" and want to do it yourself. I have to admit I was afraid to use this on you when you were a baby, but had I known I would have tried it first!

You are somewhat toilet trained, partly because of my laziness and partly your willingness. I'm getting better about asking you if you need to "go pee-pee" and you're getting better about going on your own to the "big toilet" while I sing the household famous "waiting for the pee-pee" song.

You raise your cup of milk and say "cheers;" you are learning to assemble puzzles; you love to sing the Buenos Dias song from your Spanish School. You've finished at your old school and are immersed in your new one. It was a bittersweet transition, for me, not really for you, as I realized my little girl is getting big and going to school that is not a co-op, that I'm not such a big part of anymore.

I can understand why siblings are conceived and born around the time a firstborn is three. You don't need me so much but want me as a playmate. You're entertained by kids your own age as much as me, if not more. I teach a mom and baby yoga class once a week and I'm astounded when I hold an infant of six weeks and how beautiful, dependent, and fragile they are. You were that small, I was that mom, and that was nearly three years ago.

But no siblings for you, Daddy and I believe one is enough, which means there's enough of Mommy and Daddy so that you know you're loved. Mommy is busy with her new yoga business, Daddy is busy studying, and we have enough time and love right now. We are a triad, complete.