She knows about green lights in traffic; she knows how to make a peanut butter & jelly. Sometimes it's a real sandwich (or just butter on a raw bagel, spread in little chunks with her plastic knife); other times it's a pretend peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped up in her taggie, a tan hair binder and a pink hair binder to represent their respective condiments.
Sometimes the dots on the inside of her tent where she sleeps are polka dots... other times they are bright blue and white stars. Or monsters. Then we get out the monster spray, because it makes her feel a little safer. And when she's not sleeping in her tent, she's in here with us, between mama and dada because it just feels better. She doesn't like her bed. At least that's what she tells us.
She even knows which roads lead to our common destinations! "This way is daycare! (which she goes to like never)" or "Not down there, that's the way to the gym." when we take the highway south, even though many things are south on that highway.
She's smart, she's insightful, and she's caring. Last night I sang to her, and I didn't think it was all that good. I mean really, I can't carry a tune. But she just looked at me, and her eyes drifted slowly closed. I said, "You're the best," and she just nodded and smiled. I said "I love you", and she said it back. And tonight, before bed, she asked, "Mama, can you sing to me again like you did that other time? Can you sing that same song like you did?"
This is what I know about three. Three is for messy hair, pajamas with footies, negotiating on bites of food (only two more carrots? then did I have a good dinner? so I can have dessert?) and on TV shows ("No Minnie? How bout a half a Minnie?") It's for play-doh cakes, bouncy houses, multiple walks to the park in a day, pink painted fingernails which "take foreverrrr" to dry, and helping in the kitchen. It is for a gazillion funny statements each day that I want to write down, but for some reason they escape me 2 minutes after she says them, because mom-brain is a real thing. It is for climbing on the diaper table and pretending to be her baby sister, who infinitely adores her and gives her big hugs when she is crying.
Three is really a special age. We're in the midst of it right now, and while some people say "It's not the terrible twos, it's the terrible threes," I'd say it's not really either. Sure, there are hair pulling moments, but the joy of a child! The pure joy and belly laughs! There is something so beautiful about connecting with them and watching their eyes light up as they learn.
And how we try to keep things simple. I read Simplicity Parenting years ago (thanks, Em!) and the entire concept has been in my mind since beginning parenting. I do believe we overstimulate and overschedule our young kids. Most of all they need to play, to be creative, to be listened to and to be loved. Our sweet Kennedy hasn't been in much formal daycare, but she is insightful and compassionate and energetic. She is so real. She starts pre-school this fall which is going to teach us all a whole lot of new things (sigh), and she'll have one or two extra-curricular activities as well. But what I love most, when she is at her best, is when she pretends to make that PB&J with her taggie and hair binders, or when she puts on her tutu and dances around the room, or when she demands to sleep in her fort, or do any other number of odd jobs around the house with her beautiful zest for life. The simple joy of that zest for life. Oh, how it's contagious.
Sometimes the dots on the inside of her tent where she sleeps are polka dots... other times they are bright blue and white stars. Or monsters. Then we get out the monster spray, because it makes her feel a little safer. And when she's not sleeping in her tent, she's in here with us, between mama and dada because it just feels better. She doesn't like her bed. At least that's what she tells us.
She even knows which roads lead to our common destinations! "This way is daycare! (which she goes to like never)" or "Not down there, that's the way to the gym." when we take the highway south, even though many things are south on that highway.
She's smart, she's insightful, and she's caring. Last night I sang to her, and I didn't think it was all that good. I mean really, I can't carry a tune. But she just looked at me, and her eyes drifted slowly closed. I said, "You're the best," and she just nodded and smiled. I said "I love you", and she said it back. And tonight, before bed, she asked, "Mama, can you sing to me again like you did that other time? Can you sing that same song like you did?"
This is what I know about three. Three is for messy hair, pajamas with footies, negotiating on bites of food (only two more carrots? then did I have a good dinner? so I can have dessert?) and on TV shows ("No Minnie? How bout a half a Minnie?") It's for play-doh cakes, bouncy houses, multiple walks to the park in a day, pink painted fingernails which "take foreverrrr" to dry, and helping in the kitchen. It is for a gazillion funny statements each day that I want to write down, but for some reason they escape me 2 minutes after she says them, because mom-brain is a real thing. It is for climbing on the diaper table and pretending to be her baby sister, who infinitely adores her and gives her big hugs when she is crying.
Three is really a special age. We're in the midst of it right now, and while some people say "It's not the terrible twos, it's the terrible threes," I'd say it's not really either. Sure, there are hair pulling moments, but the joy of a child! The pure joy and belly laughs! There is something so beautiful about connecting with them and watching their eyes light up as they learn.
And how we try to keep things simple. I read Simplicity Parenting years ago (thanks, Em!) and the entire concept has been in my mind since beginning parenting. I do believe we overstimulate and overschedule our young kids. Most of all they need to play, to be creative, to be listened to and to be loved. Our sweet Kennedy hasn't been in much formal daycare, but she is insightful and compassionate and energetic. She is so real. She starts pre-school this fall which is going to teach us all a whole lot of new things (sigh), and she'll have one or two extra-curricular activities as well. But what I love most, when she is at her best, is when she pretends to make that PB&J with her taggie and hair binders, or when she puts on her tutu and dances around the room, or when she demands to sleep in her fort, or do any other number of odd jobs around the house with her beautiful zest for life. The simple joy of that zest for life. Oh, how it's contagious.
