We have turned a corner, my dear.
I guess I need to back up. I haven't written you a letter in over a year (something that you're sure to hold over my head when you're looking for proof that I love your brothers more) so much of the turmoil surrounding your three-ness has gone unblogged.
Your threes were a trying time in our lives. You're strong willed and independent (which is exactly what I prayed that you'd be, so that's on me). You are smart and opinionated. You can get unsuspecting adults and children to do whatever it is that you'd like them to do, using only your words. We're working on harnessing all of these powers for good.
You and I? We've been connecting more. It's not that the preschool years will be smooth sailing; it's just that I've been getting glimpses of the friendship we'll have someday when you're grown. I love laughing with you. In fact, when you think something is funny, you can't stop laughing. You and I have that in common. I really hope you and I will have a similar sense of humor.
Your Dad commented yesterday that he feels like you're constantly doing research; we'll often catch you standing quietly and staring blankly, and we can tell you're taking everything in, processing it, and filing it away for later. You like to pull out the random bits of information that you've gathered at some inopportune times, but that's another story for another time.
We see you acting out the things you observed in some of the most creative role playing I've ever witnessed. You have full conversations with imaginary characters, and can later recall things that you did with these figments in astonishing detail. You'll ask suddenly ask questions about something you noticed a week ago as if it had just happened a few minutes ago. You are one of a kind.
Something I've noticed just recently is that when we're walking, it's like your hand is a magnet drawn to mine. If my hand is by my side, yours just floats to it as if it were out of your control. Whether we're walking down the stairs, in the grocery store, or at the park, your hand finds its way up to mine. I love that.
We have bad days, too. You are very dramatic and feel things in big ways and I am very busy and often stretched too thin. Sometimes we clash, but after apologies are made, we're better for it.
I'm better because of you.
Love,
Mama
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