Just Beth

Dear Sally,Last month you turned three years old. You had been ready for your birthday for approximately nine months. I don’t know how or why, although I believe the Sprout Channel is greatly to blame.

Every family get together, every play date, every Saturday for all of that, it was ‘it’s my birthday, right???!?!?!! We’re going to have party cake and it’s my birthday!’ And when we told you that no, it was not in fact your birthday yet, the pain and anger you would unleash on us was epic. Then, your little brother’s birthday came and… oh dear lord. Well, at least there was party cake, that’s all I have to say about that.

This year truly marks your becoming a fully functional person. I mean that in the best possible manner, and it includes things like the fact that you have pretty much mastered the ability to go to the bathroom in the potty. You don’t really wipe yet, but honest to goodness darling, the fact that I don’t have to wipe your poopy diaper-butt anymore is really really awesome. Thank you.

This year you also have gone beyond mere words and sentences to ideas and imagination. You make up stories and games that are so amazing and beautiful they make your father and I weak with adoration.

You are also becoming a true girl. Like a girly-girl I don’t know what I’m going to do about that other than become more of a girly-girl myself. Your cousins came this week on an impromptu visit, and the amount of their lipstick and nail polish you applied is more than I have possibly ever used in my entire life. I have done my level best to keep you away from the Pink and the Sparkly, without turning my nose up at it, and still you found it. Pink is most definitely your favorite color, and the last time we took you to Target and allowed you to pick out two items, it was (oh dear lord) a tiara/earring set and a magical princess wand.

There’s nothing to be done. You are a princess and I wouldn’t change you for the world. I find myself trying to be more girly and pretty for you. I may even start shaving my legs again, just to garner your approval. *shudder*

The thing is, you are the most amazing creature I’ve ever known. Your father and I are enamoured of you in completion, and you know this. This is the other part, and something I heard on the radio that Someone Important (actually, I think it was Carl Jung but don’t quote me) said that the three year old is the perfect manipulator… that three-year-old’s understand manipulation and at the same time lack the Super Ego to monitor it. Whooo boy, is that accurate. You try ever single day to stall and get out of bedtime. And you’ll say the most horrid things. “Don’t leave me alone!” you’ll wail. And “Stay for a minute, please daddy!” or my personal favorite, “Just ONE more kiss…”. And if we don’t comply with the kissing part, you weep, my darling. With the lip out and your gorgeous green eyes welling up with tears that will slowly roll down your perfect cheeks. Dear God it’s admirable.

I can’t wait to get you into dance class, for you love to dance and since I watched the show So You Think You Can Dance for the first time, I think that I am qualified to say that you have really beautiful lines. You’re definitely more graceful and charming than I have ever been. But that’s not all… you’re an incredible athlete. I mean it, you catch better than I do, you’re fast as lightening, kicking and jumping are second nature for you. As a mostly uncoordinated individual, I watch you with my jaw hanging open and my eyes bugging.

You have your brothers wrapped around your little finger, and we are all at your mercy. If I didn’t feel the same way, I might be jealous of how much your father adores you… and you him.

I had no idea how important having a daughter would be to me. My daughter. My love. Happy birthday.

I don’t even know how to end this, so I just will. Happy birthday my sweet. My Sally girl.

Love,

Momma