You are so big. Literally and figuratively.
Your doctor says you're 'off the charts' when it comes to height. But that's just a tiny part of how you're growing up so fast. I don't know how to officially measure a child's vocabulary. But I'm pretty sure you have the speech patterns and vocabulary that's more advanced than many adults I know. You call Kate "destructo" when she makes a mess. You tell Daddy he's "hilarious" and you tell Kate she's being "ridiclious" (spelled as you say it!) when she throws temper tantrums for no reason.
You've recently picked up 'tone' too. The other day, I lightly tapped you in the head when you said something crabby. You looked at me, head cocked to the side, and said "Really, mom? Did you really just hit me in the head? Really?" You sounded like an exact mini-me of your daddy.
You're a sponge. You remember EVERYTHING. I took you to pre-school the other day and I explained that I had to give them a list of your immunizations. You asked me why. I explained that the teachers needed to make sure you wouldn't get certain illnesses; so you wouldn't make the other kids sick. Then I went through some examples, describing mumps, measles, chicken pox, whooping cough, polio.
Several days later, we were driving with Grandma, and you randomly said "Hey mom, can you let Grandma know the dealio on the sick-en-nesses?" That's how you say sickness, and I love it, so I never correct it, because I love that you're 3 and pronouncing it as it's spelled. I finally figured out that you wanted me to explain to her all of the immunizations you'd gotten. I couldn't even believe that you remembered that conversation to begin with.
You already have an ingrained sense of kindness. When you see a child say something mean in a TV show, you furrow your eyebrows, open your mouth and quickly turn your head to look at me, exclaiming "That's not nice!" Wanting me to join you in proudly standing up for the person who's being wronged.
You're remarkably kind and gentle with babies and other children. You met a five-month-old baby the other day and you 'coochie coochie cooed' her immediately. You were overcome with excitement when we placed her on your lap. You sweetly, softly caressed her cheek, smiling with your face close to hers. And when we got in the car to leave, you said "That baby Caleese sure is cute!"
You remember family; and seem to understand how important family is, even at such a young age. You've only met your Uncle Ryan and Aunt Brittany a few times. But you know who they are and that their son is Greyson and you even remember their newest baby's name, even though Lachlan is just a few months old. You run to greet Grammy and Gramps when they come to visit, even though you only see them a handful of times a year. You can recite the names of all of your cousins; your aunts, your uncles.
You've taken to talking to your Grandma on the phone for hours at a time. You amble around the house, just like I do when I'm on the phone. You have full blown conversations. You ask her to read you stories on the phone. You laugh at her jokes. Sometimes you even ask her to sing you to sleep over the phone.
You miss your Grandma terribly when she leaves. You cried ... sobbed ...as I put you to bed the other night, because Grandma was here for the weekend and you missed her when she left.
You put your own clothes and shoes on in the morning. And without me even asking, you sit down at the door and take them off before you come in the house after playing outside. When I greet you in the morning, you sometimes now are the first to ask me "Did you have a good sleep, mommy?"
You can entertain yourself for hours, playing with your doll house or your babies; your Snow White and Cinderella dolls, your magnetic paper dolls or your Littlest Pet Shop. You're such an organized little player. You line them all up in rows; you put your babies in bed time and again. You have entire conversations with yourself, playing multiple characters in made up stories.
You curtsy and twirl and dance around the house...the park....everywhere. I think you're constantly imagining yourself in a princess movie, as the lead character. You dress yourself up in a dozen fairy and princess outfits a day, and I swear Disney would create a princess character based on you, if the head honchos there were ever to meet you.
You sit down for breakfast, lunch and dinner the first time I ask. You put your plate in the sink. You can drink out of a grown up cup without a lid. You can write your name, and can pick out many different letters by sight, and almost count to 20. You can recite from memory the lines from your favorite books -- Madeline and Poodleena Pompadour and the Hungry Mouse. And, after hearing a story just once or twice, you can page through the book and re-tell the story. Your reading comprehension is amazing.
You no longer say "missed you all day, daddy," when he comes in the door, but you do still run to greet your daddy, shrieking "Daddy Daddy" all the way to the door. You still sleep with poodle, bring him down to breakfast, and carry him under your arm as you play in the backyard, swing, go down the slide and play in your playhouse.
You are such a joy. Such a gift. I miss you as a baby, already; even as I love seeing your personality and soul blossom every day. I'd say you're my dream come true, little girl. But the truth is, never in my wildest dreams could I ever have imagined anything as magical and beautiful and life- changing as you.
I love you, Ella Bella Drue. I love you, my 'little big girl.' I love you.
Mommy
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