I write letters to my children on their birthdays. Here is last year’s letter to Alex.
Happy birthday, Alex! You are three, officially a “big girl,” according to you.
As I write this, you are currently skipping around the living room with a balloon tied to a ribbon, joyously shouting, “I’m flying a kite!” with your cave-woman curls bouncing around your face. Such is the energy and imagination of a three-year old.
This spring you were usurped by Aria from your Youngest Child throne. It was a brutal few months of extra meltdowns and pick-me-uuuuup’s, but we made our way through it. I think you’re now used to being the middle child. You are affectionate with baby Aria. And though you and Aaron get into conflicts many times a day, you are quick to apologize and forgive.
You just started attending preschool, which you jumped into with excitement. You’re in the “Turtles” class, and your teachers say you enjoy helping with cleanup and playing with play dough. That’s how you often approach life – with confidence and fervor.
Every day with you involves the full spectrum of emotion, leading to us dubbing you “Mount Vesuvius” (you never know when it’ll erupt) and “Jekyll and Hyde.” You can go from sweet and affectionate to horribly grouchy, which makes life with you never dull.
You are our little extrovert, constantly narrating long paragraphs. Thrown into normal conversation are your hilarious Alex-isms:
Yestertime – yesterday, last time, or any past moment
Cough you – what you say instead of “bless you” when someone coughs
“Ff” instead of “sp” – fippers (slippers), fart (smart), fuh-pive (surprise)
Mapkin – napkin
You love bathtime, eating quesadillas, art classes, yelling “fuh-pive!” when Daddy walks in the door, singing the Alphabet Song, going to Costco, wearing your Minnie Mouse pajamas, playing at the beach, and pretending to be a kitty.
I love you a lot, all the time.