Poppyseed is 3 Years Old.

Dear Poppyseed,

You turned three this week.  THREE.  I cannot even begin to tell you how fast this life of yours is passing me by.  I have been keeping a list of things that I just love and want to remember about these days with you.  Let’s jump right in.

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From the time you were just a tiny baby, we have called you Chunky Monkey.  When you first began talking, people would ask you your name and you would answer, “Chunky Monkey!”  We laughed and laughed, and your dad and I joked that you probably believed it was your name.  Well, in recent weeks you have decided it is unacceptable to be called Chunky Monkey.  “I’m Vi-vet!” you tell us.  “Oh, that’s right, we forgot!  You’re Violet.  Well come here Violet-Chunky-Monkey,” we will tease.  “NO!  I’m VI-VET!”  Your dad and I love to mess with you.

You are pretty tough for a little girl, but you are still sooooo very dramatic.  When you get hurt or sad, you express it.  And express it.  And express it.  I’m not kidding, you will sob and scream with your mouth wide open until we acknowledge your barely scraped knee or softly bumped head.  At some point I learned that I need to recognize that something happened and then just move on pretty quickly and distract you.  So I will say something along the lines of, “Oh no, you fell down?  Come here, let me see.  I’m sorry that happened, baby.”  Well, now when something bad happens, or you see that I am upset, you tell me the same thing.  So imagine me changing your brother’s diaper and saying, “Oh no!  What a mess – I’m going to have to change his clothes now. ”  You will calmly and sweetly rub the back of my leg and say, “Oh no, Mommy, let me see.  I’m sorry that happened, Mommy.”  It makes me smile to hear you comfort me in the same way that we do for you.

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Sometimes when you are learning something new, you get mad really, really quickly.  I hate to tell you girlfriend, but you get this from your mama.  Quick learners we are not, and short fuses we have.  This is such a test for me as your mother, because I don’t want you to grow up thinking that you can’t do new things.  So if you take on a new task and begin to throw your hands in the air, I always talk to you about it.  “It’s okay, don’t get frustrated, you almost did it.  It just takes a little practice.  Just ask for help, I will always help you.”  If you are really mad, I’ll tell you, “It’s okay to get a little frustrated.”  It’s so funny because you now exclaim, “MOMMY I AM SO FWUSTWATED WIGHT NOW!”

We have no idea how it started, but one day you started calling Baby Middle “Fuzzy.”  He wakes up in the morning and you nuzzle him, saying, “Good morning Fuzzy…. boochie boochie boochie.”  I don’t know what the boochie part is about either, but it’s your thing.  This has been happening for months, but recently you began calling me Fuzzy Mama.  One day a few weeks ago we were out running errands.  I was talking to some other adults in an office, and I was holding Middle on my hip.  You walked up and – totally out of nowhere – licked the bottom of his bare foot.  I was shocked and completely appalled, as were the three or four adults who also witnessed the foot licking.  “Violet, noooooo, why did you just lick Middle’s foot?!

Because you forgot to shave your body in the shower this morning, FUZZY MAMA!”

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I mean…. I had nothing to say to that.

It’s also worth mentioning that you often call your dad by his first name.  “Michael, come here!”  It always makes us laugh.  I think you only just recently made the realization that my real name is not “Mommy.”  Or Fuzzy.  Ha.

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The best part of these pictures is remembering that you were smiling at me.

The best part of these pictures is remembering that you were smiling at me.

When you were really small and learning to walk, I would chase you around the house and say, “You had better run, or I’ll get your hiney!”  Then we would race around the furniture until I would finally catch you and tickle the bottom of your thighs.  You have always loved this game and it can go on for as long as we allow it.  “Mommy, Daddy, get my hiney!”  You will beg and beg for us to get that hiney!  Recently Sara and Jason came over for dinner, and you said, “Mr. Jason, get my hiney!”  The look on his face was priceless – he’s a 30 year old guy with no nieces or kids yet – and he looked as if he may be labeled a child molester if he were to play along.  Oatmeal and I cracked up as we explained this silly game to him and said, “It’s okay, Jason, just chase her… we won’t call the cops.”

You’re still a fantastic eater.  I mean seriously, child, I made a raw kale salad with lemon juice and apple cider vinegar recently and you ate it all up.  “I wuuuuuuv kale!”  But sometimes you are really difficult, and for some reason you just want to talk-talk-talk at the dinner table.  Your dad and I constantly remind you to take a bite of food, and it can drive us crazy.  So we will say something like, “Oh no, your muscles are so tiny.  You had better take a bite of meat so that your muscles get strong.”  You’ll look at your arm, take a big bite of food, and then say, “Okay, now check my muscles!  Are they bigger yet?”  Sometimes we have to check those muscles ten times before dinner is over!

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Right now you go to preschool at a church nearby twice per week from 9am until noon.  You love it.  I definitely think you thrive in social settings.   Your teacher described you as a tomboy who is so eager to learn about God and Jesus.  “She just gets it!” is how she described your response to the chapel lessons.  This made me beam, and I told her all about your nightly tradition of climbing into your dad’s lap and reading the Children’s Bible.  You always make him begin with the story of Jonah.  “Daddy can we wead about the whale?  No, the WHALE!”

This is a video of a very serious Jonah conversation…my favorite quote:
“The ciples (disciples) threw Jonah into the wagin’ (raging) sea!”

The most fun thing about the last year has been to watch you become a big sister.  Sweet girl, you are really the best big sister.  You love Middle as much as anyone ever could.  When you walk into a room full of people, he is the first person you run to.  You fetch diapers for me all day long.  You probably say, “Oh!  I need to give Middle a kiss weal quick!” at least 10 times a day.  Right now I let you run to his crib when he wakes up from his naps, and you will climb right into this crib and play with him.  Sometimes the two of you play in there for a long time and I just watch you on the monitor.  It makes you squeal with happiness to push him on a swing at the park or go down the slide together.  You just love him so very much, and the feeling is mutual.  This is the first time that tears have come to my eyes while writing this long letter, but it’s just so sweet and touching to see this from my perspective.  Siblings are the best, and you are wonderful as a big sister.

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Oh, sweet Poppyseed, it really does make my heart full.

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There are a few other things to note… you go to a class at the Little Gym once per week.  It’s part gymnastics and part ballet/tap.  You love it, though you’re the youngest one there.  One of your favorite past times is going to the park.  You go to bed at 8pm and wake up at 7:15am.  You still nap from 1pm-2:30pm or so, although we can skip your nap if there’s something really big going on.  (You’re just a grouch by 4pm if we do!)  Your favorite food is still ground meat, avocado, chips, cheese, and chocolate chips… but we feed you whatever it is that we are eating so you are known to gobble down just about any meat or vegetable!  You love all dresses and tutus, and you either want your hair in French braided pig tails (which your Gommy does for you until I learn) or down with the front pulled back.  You must wear Frozen pajamas to bed each night.  You know all of your colors, all of your shapes, and you’re always running around saying, “MOMMY! K sounds like kah-kah-kah! B sounds like bah-bah-bah!” So you’re well on your way to acing your letters. You also love to “read.”

Well, I could go on forever about you, but I’ll end this here.  I love you so much sweet girl.

Love,

Mommy

 

 

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