Dear E,
You
turn three years old in a few hours. It is the night before your birthday, and
I am sitting in the living room typing while waiting for the chocolate cake to
finish baking. This is the first time you understand that it’s your birthday.
Every few days for the past month you ask me first thing in the morning, “is it
my birthday yet?” This morning I asked, “do you know what day it is tomorrow?”
and you said, “it’s someone’s birthday—it’s E’S birthday!” I ask you, “who
do you want to invite to your birthday party?” And you always say, “dee-dee.”
“Anyone else?” After a pause you add, “Daddy, Mommy,” like an afterthought.
It’s
hard to believe you are three! You are really grown-up now. You know how to
press your hand against my forehead to see if I have a temperature. You know
how to change Eric’s diaper by yourself. You wipe up his drool, remove choking
hazards, refill his Cheerios. You know how to put on the nursing cover and
unclick your pretend-bra to pretend-nurse your dolls. You can go potty by
yourself, wash veggies for me to stir-fry, wipe up spills by yourself.
You
notice everything, learn fast, and talk a lot. You ask me if I’m sad when you
sense something is going on. You tell me where to find something I’ve lost. You
inform me something is “junk food.” You tell me God is in heaven and also in
your heart. You say, “ouch—I bumped my ulnar nerve!” when you hit your elbow. You
can locate the clavicle, esophagus and intestines. You can read entire books by
heart, flipping through and reciting each page. You never forget anything I
say, even if it was days ago. You can chatter just as fast in English or
Chinese. Everyone remarks on how sophisticated your vocabulary is.
You
are imaginative—you can play grocery store, aquarium, hospital, or classroom
with the same few toys; you love stories. You are musical—you sing all kinds of
songs and you love to dance. You are artistic—you can draw an accurate cartoon
figure, and you love crafts. You are very neat—you wipe up specks of dirt and
place your food carefully on tissues to keep the table clean. You are
dextrous—you can assemble Legos built for kids twice your age. Your dad asks me
a lot, “is this normal for someone your age?” but we don’t know.
Here
is a list of the things you like: chocolate. Gummy bears. Sucking on lemons.
Hand sanitizer. Stickers. Band-aids. Fruit snacks. Swimming. Swings.
Gymnastics. Drawing scribbles in notebooks. Paint. Taking care of your dolls
and animals. Where’s Waldo. Play-doh. Fairy tales. Your three security
blankets.
Daddy
says all the time that he wishes we could have more children exactly like you.
You amaze and surprise us every day. I tell you this when we sit in the glider
at night before I tuck you into your crib. I tell you that we love you, that a
lot of people love you, that you are precious and special. You are smart and
kind. You bring us joy and laughter. We are so thankful you were born three
years ago. I think we will be a little sad when you get older.
Love,
Ma-Ma
:) beautiful
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