Somehow, my baby is 3. THREE!
Why does it seem so much older than, say, 2? If I'm kvelling now, just wait til Sawyer turns 5 in December. That's a WHOLE HAND.
Two was a such a huge year for Sage. She went from only a handful of words to singing long involved songs about ballerinas in the sky that she invents. She learned the potty is to pee and poop on, not a place to wash her dolls. Her hair grew long enough for pony tails - and now she doesn't even cry when I put them in.
She likes to read her own books. Pick out her own clothes. Play with the trains while everyone else is playing with the cars.
She also really loves to snuggle with Daddy, to the point of shoving me or shouting "Mommy, get out of the way!" And she especially likes to tell Daddy "You're my honeybear, right Daddy? NOT Mommy!"
There were no tears when I dropped her off for her first day of preschool this summer - that is, not until the class was over. "I miss Mommy," she told her teacher. For the first few classes, she would tear up and look for me. But now she heads off like a champ. "I didn't even cry, Mommy!" she told me proudly Tuesday.
Tap and ballet class is her new passion (even more than Hello Kitty!). She smiles the whole time, like the teacher is holding a great big pink frosted cupcake in front of her. She's just waiting to be a "yittle bit bigger" so that she can play soccer like her big brother.
For now, I am very proud that she dances to her own beat.
Happy birthday, Sweet Loo. I love you.
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