How is She Three?

She's three today.  My baby.  My last baby (provided God agrees with our logic of one parent per child). Wasn't it yesterday that we giggled relentlessly over her overflowing chub rolls and edible cheeks?  Oh this little girl.  Her complexity has caused her mom and dad to fall hopelessly in love with her, over and over and over....where would we be without her charm and charisma?  Where would the world be really?  Happy birthday to our little pistol, diva, sweetness, angel, princess, feisty, charming not so baby like little girl.  You really are our sunshine.






Before these Squirtisms fade from our minds, I need to document the little things that make our THREE year old the full of life little lady she is....

She cocks her head, points her eye balls up to the sky and places her hand oh so deliberately on her hip. This pose doesn't last long as she burst into giggles, amused at her own antics.

"Uppee please."  Hands up in the air, eye balls locked onto ours.  This phrase comes out anytime you're near stairs.  Even our own.  Now she's settling for holding hands instead...about half the time.

The second Dude gets home from school, she dashes to his backpack to check the status of his lunch.  She then reports to us how much he ate.  Dude is onto this and yells at her to leave his lunch alone as soon as she makes the dash.  We've had to resort to telling her that it's not her business, all while overflowing with laughter inside.

She told me an elaborate story about Tristan "frowing up" at April's house the other day.  She told me where he did it, who was around, how he laid on the couch and didn't eat hot dogs for lunch.  She explained that his mommy was on her way to pick him up.  Turns out, the entire story was contrived.  Every detail.  As I learned the truth from April the little squirt looked at me from the corner of her right eye and said, "Mommy, are you so happy at me?"  We're in big trouble folks.

Babies are her current passion.  She changes their poop, puts them on the potty, scolds them, places them in time out, feeds them, rocks them, takes them for stroller rides, puts them down for naps...this goes on all day long.

Her current trademark centers around taping scraps of paper to the kitchen wall.  She has figured out how to tear tape off the roll and scrunch it up to where there's enough showing the stick to the paper.  She couldn't be more proud.  It's the most precious unsightly decor I've ever allowed in my house.

She made a purple candle at daycare that we lit once.  I promptly threw it away, which is common hat.  A couple days she was looking everywhere for her "cannle."  I told her I didn't know where it was and she looked me in the eye and said, "Mommy, you frow it away?"  Busted.

She has a deep, husky smokers laugh/chuckle that we hope never leaves.  The opposite of her brother's squeely giggle.

Mommy, we wessle?  Mommy, we wessle?  Mommy, we wessle?  Every day is a good day for wrestling.

Lately, whenever we're in public she is obsessed with whether or not we know the people she sees.  You can imagine how many times the question, "Mommy, we know dat lady?"  is asked in an average outing.

It's rare if we go through a night without the quiet, creepy presence of Squirt standing next to my bedside. Her mere breathing is enough to cause me to sit straight up asking what's wrong.  Nothing.  Nothing is every wrong.  She just wants to say hi and requests a sleeping bag to be placed in her bed for the remainder of the night.  It can't START there mind you.  It's a 3:00am thing.  Tim and I fight over who is blessed to grant her the sleeping bag wish each night.

When Tim or I arrive home from errands or work, she dive bombs to the floor, wherever she happens to be at the time.  She hiding.  Which looks like a 2 year old, face down on the floor with her hands covering her eyes.  Bless her little heart that she believes this position creates an invisible status.  Although, sometimes Dude still believes this to be true too.

You would think that she would realize that we can catch her in the lie of "Did you flush the toilet?"  She hasn't quite figured that one out yet.

We can NOT put clothes on her anymore.  Socks, undies, pants, shoes...everything is under her jurisdiction.  I can still PICK the clothes...thank goodness.

My child will not finish a sweet, baked item.  She'll insist that she NEEDS it and will hand over the remains after she takes her two signature bites.  This will benefit her later in life.

Squirt's window of the car is clearly designated as HER window.  Dude is not allowed to even peer out of it without her scolding him.  I've had to pull over and explain to her that she owns nothing and only Mommy can tell Dude what he can and can't do.  I'll catch her giving him the hand as a secondary way to enforcing her rule.  Little pistol.

At bed time, she often instructs Tim and I to "go sleep" in her bed.  She packs her backpack and goes to work.  If we open our eyes we are scolded.  She reassures us that "she be back after work to pick you up" and comes in and out of the bedroom about 8 times to check on us before we have to end the game.  We adore this time with her little motherly self.

Dude built an awesome and rather impressive creation out of his gear set last week.  A couple days later she walked over to it, disassembled it, looks at him and says, "Me wreck it."  She then walked away with her head held high.  Uh huh. Trouble.  And lots of time outs.

The only time table she understand right now is "last week."  Everything we do is in relation to "last week."

Colors and numbers are posing a problem.  About 1/3rd of the time she can identify the correct color and count in order.  This has caused some concern for her parentals.  Until I realized that if M&M's are involved, she's spot on.  100%.  Uh huh.  Trouble.

Every morning she is allowed in bed with us at 6:30am.  She'll lay there in-between us without a peep for 45 minutes and will offer to scratch my back and face.  I eat.this.up.