Thirty-five months

Wow. You are one month away from being three years old. Already when I ask, "Ava, how old are you?" you respond "Three." Close enough for horse shoes and birthdays.

I was thinking such a strange thought a moment ago, after I wondered what I was going to do with the next seven minutes before I leave to teach a prenatal yoga class. I thought, what if today is the day. I mean the day, my last day in this body. Such a strange thought, but I then realized what I would want to do is write to you again in this blog, so that if by chance this was the day, my words to you would be saved.

It's probably not the day, for my friends and family members to restrain their panic and such, it's just a thought, really, that what if today was the day, what would you want to do?

But back to you, my little love, little miss, growing up into a big little girl!

You're on the road to toilet training. On Saturday we were diaper-free all day, although I should have followed my instincts and put one on you before your nap. Instead I washed sheets, but no worries. Then you were sick Sunday and Monday with a pesky virus that zapped your energy so those were diaper days too. But soon we'll go back to the big girl underwear adventure. You picked out more big girl underwear at the store the other day, ones with Curious George. I thought how funny it is that there really are monkeys on your butt and that it's perfectly acceptable, because you're three.

Speaking of clothes, you regularly pick out your own pajamas and clothes for the day at my prompting. The pajamas are always matching, the clothes nearly always. You love hats. You love hoods. You love hoods on sweatshirts so much that you won't let me leave the house without a hood on my head, even when it's sunny. You won't let Daddy leave the house unless he's wearing a jacket. "You forgot a jacket, Daddy," you'll say, and he'll tell you he didn't forget one, that he's warm enough, but then he'll capitulate to your demands and go get one.

But now, some words from you:

"Hey! That's a moon right there!" you exclaimed the other evening, and I wondered if there was a future for you at NASA.

"Stay right there; I'll be right back!"
I dared not move a muscle for fear I'd be banished for a time out.

"The grasshoppers are coming! The grasshoppers are not going to drink my tea."
Maybe you've watched Bug's Life one too many times.

"Please and yes."
Politeness, followed by the required response, works like a charm.

"Daddy, it's pancake time."
You've become my town crier and breakfast announcer, and Daddy always responds to you.

But now, my seven minutes are up, and it's time to teach yoga to mommys with babies inside.

I love you, now and forever,
Mommy
p.s. to Grandma Bear, I'll post pictures soon!