Letters to Carrots : Three and a Half Years

July 2014 to January 2014 

Dear Carys,

You’re suddenly three and a half and I want to call you a toddler still but you are so. not. a. toddler. anymore. You’re tall and lanky and I almost never see anything of “baby Carys” or “toddler Carys” in you anymore. You’re a full-on kid now, and it’s a bit of an existential crisis for me to suddenly be the mom of a big kid. We did the toddler thing for three years and was pretty comfortable in my role as toddler mom, but I feel like I just got assigned additional responsibilities as a kid mom and I didn’t get a chance to research what my new role would entail. And you’re springing new things on me every day. Keeping me on my toes.

You’re just the most, Carys. The very –est. You’re the funniest, the cutest, the smartest, the silliest, the most creative, the most imaginative, the craziest, the most daring, the sweetest, the most caring, the most polite, the most loving, the goofiest, the –est, the –est, the –est of everything. (That’s such a mom thing to think that of your child, I know. And I promise, I KNOW logically you aren't really the smartest three-year-old out of all the, like, 50 million three-year-olds in the world. But I do find you particularly brilliant and particularly amusing and particularly adorable and so on and so on.) You just live life all in caps: LIVE LIFE. You want to swing a little bit longer, climb a little bit higher, explore a little bit deeper, read one more book, give one more hug.

You’re definitely the most and –est of some not-quite-so-wonderful things too, like the most stubborn. The most threenager who ever threenaged. The messiest, maybe. The most selective hearing. The quickest mood changes. From just after three until about a month ago, you were three with a capital T-H-R-E-E. You weren't just three, you were like three’s poster child. Three’s shining example of what a threenager is supposed to be like. But we’re mostly (KNOCK ON WOOD KNOCK ON ALL THE WOOD KNOCK ON SO MUCH WOOD) over that rough patch. There were a couple days there where you just cried and whined for absolutely no discernible reason for hours and all I could do was try to appease you and try to hold you and love you and then just let you get it out of your system when trying to help didn’t work. This letter would have been probably just a single sentence if I’d written it two months ago: “Carys, I’m going to sell you to the circus.” Although it's way better now than it was, obviously every moment of every day isn’t shiny happy all the time, because a) you’re still three and b) you’re still human and humans have emotions and mood fluctuations.

Your personality is huge; far bigger than your tiny body. Bigger than life itself. You positively vibrate with energy. You’re so excited about things – you get more excited about the smallest treat than most people get about Christmas. You talk with such emphasis and your eyes go wide, eyebrows up as high as they can go, and you lean into whoever is lucky enough to be the recipient of your attention, gesturing with your hands, fake whispering with a smile dancing on your lips. You're an amazing dichotomy of cuddly and Don't Touch Me, of princess and worms, of shy and outgoing.

You love to dance and sing. You’re always singing songs to yourself, whether made up on the spot or learned in school or One Direction songs learned from Pandora. Sometimes if you hear me start singing along, you’ll stop singing and put on a big fake pout, waiting for me to ask, “What’s wrong?” so you can reply, “I just want to sing by myself, please.” Other times, you want me to sing and sing loudly and sing the entire album over and over and over.

You love reading. Every night we do three books - because you're three years old! - plus one bonus book if you've been good, and the reminder that you won't get a bonus book at night is often all it takes to make you start listening. You love animals, dressing up, playing play dough, pretend cooking, real cooking, and drawing people (your art skills have just exploded in the last few months!). You love your baby sister (and any baby). You love camping. You love a show on Netflix called Julius, Jr., about a monkey inventor (yes, really). You love your friends, and it kind of breaks my heart when it's just me and you and your sister going to a park and you ask if any friends will be there - you're definitely a social little girl. You love playing MineCraft with daddy and you guys have built and entire "Carys room" in dad's virtual world.

You’re SO creative and inventive. Your dramatic play game is on point (to use some 2014 slang). You create these elaborate role-playing games and embed yourself deep into characters, so much so that you will answer without a second’s pause if I call you by the character’s name. You change the way you carry yourself and your gait and your voice and your mannerisms. You keep narratives going for months at a time. You're a mermaid ("Oh, look at my legs! They're turning into a fin!"), a robot ("Beep boop beep, press the button to make me walk!"), a statue, a princess, a ninja, a pirate, a teacher, a mom, a baby, veterinarian, a cook, a farmer, a singer. You have fantastical outfits that you put together in a million different combinations and use everyday items in ways I would have never considered. If I had not birthed you, I'd have serious doubts as to your parentage. You beg to wear tights. In 90 degree weather.

You have the most nurturing little soul. You love to play with babies – real and dolls – and take care of them in the most realistic ways that kind of actually blow my mind sometimes (and serve as a reminder that you’re always watching and taking in my actions and words). You dote on your sister – when you’re not yelling at her to leave your toys alone or get out of your play space – and you have a hilarious tone that you take with babies, squatting down and pinching their cheeks lightly and talking baby talk to them: “Oh, what a cute little baby, wook at dat wittle cheeky cheeky cheeky!” A few of your friends’ parents have had babies lately and you are completely enamored with “Baby Jakey” and all the other babies. You have asked me on more than one occasion if we could just please take all the babies home with us or if we could just please have another baby so you can hold it, since Emmeline doesn’t let you hold her anymore. And it’s not just babies – you delight in caring for me and your dad as well. You ask if we need a cuddle or our hand held or a band-aid or a snack. And it's not just humans - any creature is deserving of your doting, be it a real worm or a hard plastic toy lion or a paper giraffe puppet.

You take dance class and swim class, and we do drop-in gymnastics every once in a while. We did an actual gymnastics class for a few months, but it was a little too structured and a little to "real" gymnastics and less "fun" gymnastics, so we dropped it at your request. Your dance class is about the cutest thing I've ever seen, like EVER, with your little leg warmers and bony shoulders sticking out of your leotard and tiny ballet slippers. You're still a great swimmer, too - swimming the length of the pool and using big arms and holding your breath. I'd love to get you into a team sport this spring or summer, like soccer, and I think you'd love to do something like taekwondo. And eventually I want you to do real gymnastics again - I really think you'd be good at it.

You went on your first flight - to Hilton Head - and did amazing. You loved flying and regularly ask if we can "...fly to [insert place] like when we went to Hilton Head." You absolutely adored the beach and our bike rides around the island, and made fast friends with Mary Jo and Steve. Dad's friends stayed with us and I like to think you charmed the heck out of them (you even made up a nickname for Sam, calling him "Sammy"). We also had several long drives - to St. Louis and Dubuque and Chicago - and you did great. You can entertain yourself for hours on end given the right tools, and you adapt so well to different hotel rooms and cities. We went camping a handful of times, and you (YAY!) are a great little camper. You love everything about it - the tent sleeping, the hikes, the s'mores, and, of course, being with Nana.

I could write a million pages about you and all of the things that are so special about you (and, let's face it, probably about all the other three year olds out there - but those three year olds aren't MINE). Like your last letter, I've been collecting bits and pieces of things you've said or done over the last six months and I'm going to include them in a huge, long list. Most of these are probably precious only to me, but....well....this letter is from me to you, so that's okay. Some of them I remembered to jot down with dates and some I didn't, because I'm a terrible mother. (And the tense/voice changes throughout, I'm sorry not sorry for the inconsistencies. And some are stolen directly from FB updates.)

August 2014: 
- Mail bringer (what you started calling our mailman)
- Really into the phrase "poopy head." You said that you were a "poopy head princess with a long poopy head dress and a poopy head crown and poopy head sparkly shoes."
- After I did the ALS ice bucket challenge, a few days later you called me into the backyard, and I found you drenched in water. You then showed me your own version of the challenge, complete with a little intro like I'd done.
 - You call yourself the "Keeper of the snails/dog/cat/baby"
- When driving, you yelled at me when I wasn't answering you: "Do you hear my voice coming out of my mouth???"
- After playing in the rain, you and I were soaking wet, while Emmeline was dry (thanks to her stroller canopy. From the backseat you called, "Okay, yell if you are wet! [pause] Emmeline didn't yell, because she is dry."
- You started sounding out words and phrases, especially when trying to prompt Emmeline to talk: c-c-carys
- We drove by a guy holding up a Domino's sign, and Carys said, "Did you see that guy holding a sign?" I said, "Yes, what do you think it said?" Carys: "I think it says, go cars go! You can do it!"
- When camping: she called an axe a "hammer that cuts wood." She also took a bag of food and wouldn't put it down, saying, "I need to take these snacks into the woods when I look for bugs in case I get hungry or lost!"

September 14:
- At swim class, you decided to swim like a mermaid all day and refused the goggles and refused to kick your feet separately - you'd only swim with your legs crossed at the ankle and flap your legs like a mermaid might. Miss Keri couldn't stop laughing at you.
- You called a milkshake "drinking ice cream"
- You were pretending to be Ariel all day, right through bedtime. You asked for a bedtime song so I started to sing "Hush Little Baby" when you stopped me and said, "No, hush little ARIEL." I had to sing the rest of the song using "Ariel" instead of "baby."
- While playing Frozen with you, I was Elsa. You directed me: "Mom, pretend Anna is frozen." Me as Elsa): "Oh no, Carys, Anna is frozen. What should I do?" Your reply: "I don't know, stand next to her and cry, I guess."
- When asking if something is breakable: "Is this glassable??"
- Carys made worms out of play-dough, then lovingly put them in a container to take outside... because, as she explained it, "I am the keeper of the worms."
- Carys: "Why do you have to go to work?" Me: "So I can get some money." Carys: "Why do you need to get some money?" Me: "So I can pay for things." Carys: "So you can pay for things at Target?" (Well, she's not wrong...)
- Carys, after looking appraising my outfit: "Yeah, that's great. That's really great. You look wonderful." (Ok, thanks, toddler Tim Gunn.)
- Carys, in an exasperated tone: "Do you see what I'm wearing? A white dress." Me: "Oh, I do. What does that mean?" Carys: "It means married!" Me: "It does? You're getting married?" Carys: "No, I'm not getting married. I'm already married!" Me: "Who are you married to?" Carys: "YOU, MOMMY! Did you forget???"
- When she cut her forehead and knees after a fall at the park, she cried out, "I'm BLOODING!"
- So this is probably how every toddler reacts to their first ocean experience and it's not special - other than the fact that it's special because she's my kid - but I can't get over how not only can I not get Carys out of the ocean, but all she wants to do is go so deep she can barely stand and have the waves crash over her head. Maybe she really IS a mermaid like she keeps telling me.
- We watched a wildlife show at the zoo where they showed the hand signals they use to communicate with the birds. Over a month later, we were at home and she wanted to play zoo, and replicated the symbols with no prompting and pretended the birds were flying between us.
 - When she didn't want to give Nana a hug goodbye: "I'm sorry, you have no more hugs to give out, Nana. They're all gone. I guess you can't give me a hug."

October 2014: 
- On Halloween, Carys didn't want to trick or treat, she just wanted to hand out candy. She's all "Why, hello there!" and "What a great costume!" and "Oh, how wonderful!" in a hilariously patronizing tone to each person who came up. Then she got totally dejected when there weren't any more trick or treaters and sat on the front stoop calling for kids to come: "Helllloooo! Is anyone there? Come to my house! We have candy!!!"

November 2014: 
- I let Carys have a fortune cookie this morning. She pulled out the fortune and fake read it: "This says 'Santa loves you. Also Christmas trees, presents, and toys are coming tomorrow." Clearly we need to work on a) her reading skills b) her idea of true Christmas spirit and c) her timelines.
- When crying with tears dripping down her cheeks, you asked in a plaintive voice, "Don't you see my drippings?"
- While I was working on the computer and she wanted me to color: "No mom, you can do both. You have two hands. One for coloring and one for working."
- When I asked her if she would share her candy with me and she said no, I replied, "Don't you love me?" She said, "Ugh, mom, of course I love you. I always love you. [pause] But I'm still not sharing."

December 2014
- In her letter to Santa: "I would like a spaceship, but not a real spaceship, just a toy spaceship that flies all around. A real one is too big for our house."
- Carys: "Poopy butt! Poopy butt!" Me: "Carys, I don't like to that. You need to choose to say nice words." Carys: "Fine. NICE WORDS NICE WORDS NICE WORDS. There, are you happy now?"
- After I wouldn't let her have another cookie, she ran to her room, then yelled when I went to go check on her: "Get out of my bedroom! My bedroom is closed! I still love you but I don't want you by me!"

January 2014:
- I gave you a Junior Mint. Your assessment: "Well, they're a little bit spicy, but I........LOVE THEM!"
- You asked Nana if you could have this decorative rock, and grandpa replied (being silly), "As long as it's not George the rock. We can't part with George." Nana said, "No, this is Edward the rock." For the next week you carried "Edward the Rock" around and "fed" him and bathed him and tucked him in at night.
 - Carys wanted to play Minecraft and she is SO pissed at me for not doing it right. "No! You need a different axe! No, mom, chop that tree! MOM WHY DON'T YOU KNOW HOW TO DO THIS?"
- When I asked her to repeat herself using a nicer voice (not whining) she replied, "Mom! Calm down! Everything is okay!"
- You started lecturing me with fake Daniel Tiger lessons: "Daniel Tiger says, 'If you don't want to share with someone, it's okay not to share then!" and "If you accidentally hit someone, stop and say sorry right away!" (in a singsong voice)

Undated (because I'm awful): 
- "My arms are getting dizzy!" (after moving your arms in a circle)
- You have a tenuous grasp of monetary concepts: "Did you bring one money to buy one ice cream or two monies to buy two ice cream?"
- After I told her to "eat it up!" she replied, "Eat it up? But I eat it down! Down my throat and into my stomach!"
- I told her, "Carys, you are getting so big!" And she started crying, "I don't want to get so big! If I get bigger and bigger and bigger I won't fit in the house anymore and I might break it!"
- She was sick one night, and in the morning ran out and said, "I feel more such better!"
- After I told her she had to listen to me because I was in charge: "No, Elsa is in charge!"
- You attempted to tell knock knock jokes: "Knock knock!" "Who's there?" "A horse!" "A horse who?" "Because I'm a horse that lives on a farm!"

To keep up the tradition, a round up of your favorite things:

Favorite food: Ice cream and broccoli
Favorite drink: Milk
Favorite movie/TV show: Frozen, Julius Jr, Strawberry Shortcake, Scooby Doo, Little Princess, Zig and Sharko
Favorite color: Pink or purple
Favorite clothes: Real clothes - any long tunic or dress. Play clothes are your Elsa dress.
Favorite shoes: Your gray boots or your light-up Elsa shoes
Favorite toy: Play-dough
Favorite book: Frozen "Look and Find" book
Favorite park activity: SWINGS.
Favorite teacher: Mr. Connor
Favorite school friend: Addy
Favorite friend not at school: Charlotte

You're 43.5 pounds, 40" tall, and wear size 4T (3T is too short). Your hair goes down to your mid-back and is light brown and curly. You have big, expressive hazel eyes. You wake up about 8:30 and go to bed around 9. You go to daycare 2x a week, swim class once a week, and dance class once a week. You know the alphabet and how to write most of the letters, and can spell your name, "mom", and "dad" by heart (as well as E-M-M-E of Emmeline). You can count pretty high - I actually don't know how high. But at least to 30. You can recognize all the numbers. You can color in the lines, but you don't often have the patience to do so. You can draw people (with hair and fingers and toes and elbows and knees) and hearts. You can do a flip off the arm of the couch.

I'm stealing the same line I used to close your last letter, because I love it and it gets me right in the feels: You're beautiful and amazing and flawed and wonderful (and because of that, I think you're perfect).

I love you so much.

Love, Mama

Letters to Carrots : Three Years Old

January 7 to July 7, 2014

Dear Carys,

I mean, seriously, look at you.

Love this kid, INDEED.

You are three years old.

THREE.

Like the going-on-your-fourth-year type of three.

Never have I wished to be able to pause time harder. I find it impossible that you've been on this earth three entire years.  In the grand scheme of things, it's such a short time, but in my life it's been absolutely everything. You have changed me for the better, completely. You've changed your dad's life. You'll change your sister's life (for better or worse - sorry to my own sister Jenna for making her scared of heights...).

 

You're such a bright, loving spirit (nearly always). You listen well (sometimes). You're kind and sweet and gentle (usually). You're an amazing big sister (usually). You're energetic (always) and silly (always) and so darn smart (always). You're spunky and daring and you Live Out Loud (literally...have you heard yourself scream?), and you're only three years old. What amazing-ness awaits??

We've tried a few free "preview" dance classes (with your "special shoes" [ballet shoes] that, once on, you refuse to take off) and open gym sessions at a gymnastics studio (you love the rings) and you love both. If there's music, you're dancing. If there's a bar, you're hanging from it. If there's something bouncy, you're jumping on it. We got you a trampoline for your birthday and you thought you'd died and gone to heaven. We actually tried a preview dance class a while ago and you were mortified and upset that you didn't have the same "special shoes" as all the other girls, so I sprung for them, and they're well-worn already. We're trying out "official" dance and gymnastic classes in the fall and we'll see what you think of them. I also want to sign you up for karate and soccer and and ALL THE THINGS but I am pacing myself and trying to remember that we have lots of time for all that.

You're still taking swim classes - two and a half years now! - and are such a little fish in the water. Part of it is just that you've been going so long, but you're doing so well even compared to the other kids in your own age group. You can float on your back by yourself, and are learning the arm movements to do a backstroke (you can go almost half the length of the pool!). You can swim underwater to the edge of the pool and pull yourself up and out of the pool. All by yourself.  I keep thinking of stopping swim class in favor of something else, but you really love it, so we'll keep it up as long as you want. We went to a Fourth of July party and there was another kid there, six months older than you, who was playing in one of those baby floats and you just could not wrap your head around it. You wanted to do it initially when you saw her using them, but you couldn't do anything in it, so you quickly ditched it to return to jumping in the water and swimming back to the edge (with me there to help catch you). I could. not. get. you. out. of. that. water. Your lips were blue, but you wanted to keep swimming.

What are you into, besides swimming and dancing and gymnastics? You still love the characters of Frozen but you're kind of over the movie. You like Little Mermaid, but again, just the characters. Your favorite things to watch at the moment are Scooby Doo (you LOVE acting out the 'unmasking' of the monster scenes) and Sword in the Stone. Yes, like the 1960s movie. That has zero princesses. While I have no idea why you love it, I love that you do. You really like puzzles and you love play-dough. You love little figurines - whether they're ninja guys or princesses or cowboys, you have a collection of small (like 3 inches and smaller) dolls and just love playing with them. You love animals and kids.

You love sugar - or you think you do, anyway. You're always asking for it, but you rarely finish whatever treat it is that you manage to finagle.

You love to sleep on the floor, as I've mentioned. You love to read. Oh, my gosh, do you love to read. You love camping. You love shopping with me and pushing your own cart. You love spicy things.

You love to color for the five minutes that you'll sit and do it, then you're over it (but I'm so impressed with how you're starting to color within the lines!). You like to draw and are starting to draw recognizable figures - heads with facial features and lines and circles for arms/legs/hands/feet.  You love motorcycles and trains and farts and worms and bugs and my makeup and my clothes. You love to dress up. Let me repeat that. YOU LOVE TO DRESS UP. I can't emphasize "love" enough. You constantly have some sort of outfit on, whether it's a princess skirt and tiara or "angel" wings and a giant flower hair clip or a blanket cape and wielding a sword. You are always in costume and always in character.

(I give up on formatting the fricking pictures.)

We've kind of been homebodies the last six months since your sister was born, though we have gotten some outings in: the zoo many times, the children's museum a handful of times, the kite festival, a Cinco de Mayo festival, Brownville Flea Market, the Summer Arts Festival, a farm festival (and local parks, of course, and picnics and play dates and stuff like that) but we haven't done any big trips since we're still getting in the two-baby groove.

Your dad was taking you to school while I was still on restricted driving after having Emmeline, and would take you to Village Inn in the mornings for "mickey mouse" pancakes and you thought it was so special. I  hereby give him permission to take you into school late a couple times a year from now on in order to continue that tradition. I think the "biggest" thing we did was go on a camping trip in May. Things have settled down a lot, and we have more camping trips and a family vacation coming up (as well a trip where we'll have to leave you with your Nana for FIVE ENTIRE DAYS LIKE ALMOST A WEEK AND I'M ALREADY MISSING YOU AND FREAKING OUT). One of the trips involves a beach and I know you're going to never want to leave.

 

Sisterhood fits you so well. You're a natural. It actually breaks my heart a little bit, for a variety of reasons. You fall into perfectly into the role of middle child when you're around kids both older and younger than you, but you're not actually a middle child since your older brother isn't with us. But you should have been. Also sad because you don't have any cousins to play with. Because you probably won't have any cousins to play with, at least not for a long time. (Come on, siblings of mine!!!) But you're a great sister. Emmeline just adores you. She looks at you like she looks at no one else, and you're so proud of that fact. Yes, you can be obnoxious and even mean to your little sister - like grabbing a toy away from her, or handling her a little too roughly - but overall your relationship is everything for which I'd hoped. So far. Talk to me in ten years.

 

You're at the age where you're starting to make real friends (not just ones forced on you by me). Seeing these relationships develop - where you ask daily to go play with Charlotte or "Leela" and remind me how excited you are to swim with Taylor or Annie - is so gratifying. I'm also grateful that most of my friends go with the "hands off" theory when it comes to toddler tiffs, so it's been interesting to see you (and them) develop the skills to work your arguments out by yourselves. You also make friends wherever we go - you're a social little girl and gravitate to other kids, particularly older kids, though you exhibit extreme patience for babies as well and delight in "teaching" them. The big kids, though, are the ones that hold your attention the most. At your birthday party, your best same-age friends were there, but you just shadowed your friend (my cousin's daughter) who is a few years older. There's some serious hero-worshiping happening there.

 

You're a little bit of everything, full of dichotomies. You love dressing up in long dresses, but rip them off in a heartbeat to climb on top of a chair. Your love playing with your "girls" (your small doll figurines), but you relish digging in dirt with your bare hands and finding worms. You are one of the loudest, most outgoing, friendly kids I've ever met, but in a some situations, you'll hide behind me and not look up and refuse to talk to anyone. Sometimes you'll introduce yourself and immediately start bossing a strange kid around, but the next day you'll hover on the sidelines waiting to be invited to play. So shy, yet so outgoing. So introverted, yet so extroverted. So quiet, yet so loud.  You love to lay next to me, but rarely let me cuddle you ("No rubbing my back, mama! Don't touch me!") - although in the week or so leading up to your third birthday, you started requesting cuddles when you were upset. Hearing you say, "Can you cuddle me, mommy?" through tears is just the sweetest and most heartbreaking thing ever.

I need to find a giant tree to knock on, because things are looking up around here. The last couple of months had been some of the most challenging we've had yet, as you tested the boundaries and tried to be in charge of your own life. Unfortunately, as you're only three, I can't actually let you play outside in the front yard alone (and NO you don't want to play in the backyard and NO you don't want me to watch from the porch and NO you don't want anyone else to watch you either), you're often kind of pissed at me and frustrated and disappointed by all these Rules. Rules everywhere. Only one treat a day. Only one movie a day. No jumping on the glass table. No flying your kite inside. No ice cream for breakfast (well...usually not). No painting with toothpaste. No throwing rocks in the house. No no no no. I can only imagine what it sounds like to you. I try my very best to re-word the expectations into "yes" or positive action statements - "Yes, you can throw the rock if you go outside," or "Please use your hands to hug," but I'm still throwing up barriers to you having fun and being autonomous left and right.

I give into as many of your requests as I reasonably can - letting you wear two different shoes, for example - in order to give you some control over your life. But you want ALL the control and you hate that you don't have it. You think you're quite reasonable and persuasive in your arguments, by the way. You're learning the fine art of negotiation and I don't think I like it. Please go back to blind obedience. Ok, hmph, fine, I guess this is all developmentally appropriate and I don't want to raise a child who just blindly follows anyone...except I kind of want you to just listen to me already, okay?

On top of the desire for control, you sometimes can be stubborn and whiny, which when combined with the tantrums, is just delightful. (That's sarcasm, Carys. It's not. At all.) I know that's a universal toddler thing, but it doesn't make it any easier to listen to all day. As I mentioned, you also think you know about negotiation, which is both hilarious and irritating, because it means I have to figure out how to negotiate with a three-year-old. And since very little in your mind makes sense to an adult, it's hard. It typically goes like this: You: "Can I have this cookie?" Me: "You can have it after you eat dinner." You: "But how about now?" Me: "After dinner." You: "What about two minutes?" Me: "After dinner." You: "What if I pick up my toys?" Me: "I'd appreciate that. And you can have the cookie after dinner." [fifteen minutes of the same elapses] You: "Can I eat it now?" Me: "OMG YES YOU CAN HAVE IT JUST TO END THIS CONVERSATION." You've also gotten rather...sneaky....which worries me. If you are this sneaky now, how am I going to keep tabs on you when you're older and smarter?!?! I told you that you couldn't have a sucker at the moment and a couple minutes later I noticed the stick part of the sucker sticking up out of your shirt. You'd hidden it there! I've also found you in closets hiding while putting on my make-up, and you've mastered the art of showing me your empty hand, rather than the hand with the offending item, when I ask what exactly you have that's making you giggle to yourself. I'm positive my mom would tell me this is all payback for my own childhood.

Oh, and also? You cuss now. And it's HILARIOUS. I shouldn't say that, but it is. Because it's cussing the way only a three-year-old can. You know two phrases that are "bad" and if you're mad, you blurt them out, much the same way an adult would let loose a string of profanity. So you yell, "POOPY BUTT! SHUT UP! POOPY BUTT! SHUT UP!" sometimes with a side of sticking your tongue out at me.  I've told you that those words are words that can be said in your bedroom, alone, which serves the dual purpose of not banning them and therefore making them more desirable and also lets me laugh my ass off at it. (I know for sure 'poopy butt' came from daycare/school and I'm 99% sure 'shut up' did too. Sigh.)

A huge part of the struggle has been that you dropped your nap a while ago, but you still need it. You need it like whoa. You just don't see it that way, and since I can't force you to sleep (if only parents had full control of the sleep habits of their children - how much easier parenting would be!!!!), you end up not taking a nap most days. This, however, has led to the occasional  "fall asleep on the couch" or even "fall asleep on mom" moments, which never happened before. And if we're in the car around the time you used to nap, you will fall asleep. Every time. I may have gone old-school on you and taken you out on a car ride a couple times on days I know I need you to be awake AND happy later in the evening, like on your birthday or on the Fourth of July. You are still sleeping on the floor most days, which is just so weird to me, because beds are so. much. more. comfortable than the floor, but also so familiar, because I fully remember sneaking out of my room when I was little to watch my parents as they watched TV. I just wanted to be with them. You lay down a blanket and your pillow, then ask me to cover you up with your "lellow blanket" and then you play quietly with little figurines or read a book until you fall asleep. Often you'll yell out at us to "Be quiet! I'm trying to sleep!"

But, as I said, things are looking up, and over the last month or so, the days that seemed to be one non-stop tantrum after another have become increasingly rare and the days that are sunny and happy and smiley and silly have returned to being the norm. Two and a half to three was a hard run, kiddo, but here's hoping that the worst is behind us. (Parents of older children are thinking "HAHA THAT NAIVE FOOL," and laughing to themselves now.)

Even on the worst days, though, I just can't get enough of you. I cannot wait to pick you up from daycare when you go, and adore the rare one-on-one time I get with you. You are so very funny and smart and you notice everything (which I think is pretty much a toddler's job). You're so incredibly creative, in play and dress and how you interact with the world.  You're an achingly beautiful soul and I sometimes catch myself just staring at you, wondering how I got so lucky. (Note: usually these moments are not when you're throwing a tantrum.) The curls at the nape of your neck, the way your lashes brush your cheeks when you sleep, the way your cheeks flush when you're tired. The feeling of your bony, thin shoulders under my hand when you let me cuddle you, your arms with their tiny but strong muscles, the fuzz between your shoulder blades. Just a glance at you pulls at my heartstrings like nothing I've ever known before. The very timbre of your voice lifts my spirit, whether you're excitedly fake-whispering a secret to me, or singing a song at the top of your head, or talking quietly to Emmeline in the back seat of the car. Sometimes, if you wake up early, you climb into bed with us and hold my head in your hands and stroke the features of my face and tell me how much you love me and I literally start to tear up because I think my heart is so full of love that it's leaking out. I so often want to just to scoop you up into my arms and hold you close and stop time for a moment so I can just enjoy you and this hilarious, ridiculous, fun, difficult age as long as possible. I miss you when you're sleeping. There have been many nights when I just want to go wake you up to get another hour of playtime or one more hug. A desire to wake a sleeping child when only moments before I'd been counting down the minutes to bedtime?? What is that?? No one told me about that part. 

Like with your previous letter, I've been jotting down things I wanted to remember over the last few months. There are SO MANY MORE THOUGH. Like every day I think, "OMG, that was adorable, I have to remember to write that down," but then reality hits and I forget before I ever get close to a pen and paper. Which is probably good, because this is already insanely long. YOU'RE JUST THAT CUTE, KID.

The TL;DR version of this for people who want to stop now is that my kid says things that I think are cute but that are probably said by kids worldwide on a daily basis. BUT MY KID THO.

(Sorry these are kind of disjointed - since they were written one at a time over a few months the formatting is all over the place.)

December 2014 (apparently I was busy with something and didn't write much down?? I can't imagine what?)
- Christmas program at school where you were a sheep and did a great job, including the classic "wave to mom from stage" thing. Nana, Grandma N, and daddy and Emmeline all watched you. I might have cried.
- Asked if we could keep Emmeline forever.
- You tell me to "make baby sister happy! I no like it when she's crying! It makes me sad!"

January 2014
- At the hospital, the elevator door closed with you in it (you didn't step out with me like I thought you did) and your terrified cry-scream that immediately happened was the most heartbreaking and scary thing I've ever heard. I started button mashing and luckily the door opened quickly without depositing you on another floor. You jumped into my arms and clung to me so hard while sobbing and repeating "The door closed! The door closed!" We saw a helicopter like two feet away as we were leaving the building, though, so that cheered you up.
- Dad and I took you and your sister out for lunch and you were SO excited to show off your baby sister to everyone. "LOOK! This is my baby sister! Emmeline!" (I love how you say Emmeline - very prounced: EM-uh-line!)

February 2014
- Instead of just "no, thank you," you say "no, thank you, please."
- We watched "Sound of Music" and you love the goodnight song the kids sing, and make me do the "cah-coo" part with you over and over.
- We watched "Mary Poppins" and you love to repeat, "We are not a codfish," and other snippets.
- You love to pretend to go trick-or-treating.
- All kisses now get the response "I wipe it off!"
- If I ask you to do something you don't want to do, you reply, "I have no hands!" meaning your hands are full. If they weren't previously full, you'll pick up anything within arm's reach to make them full.
- You love to be the patient and have me the doctor and will have me try to fix your broken legs over and over. I'll say you're all fixed and you'll try to stand and collapse on the floor and say it's still broken.
- "I eat my booger!" EW.
- You will dance and sing to anything.
- If I ask you what the name of your baby doll is, you answer either "Cookie" or "Emmeline."
- I showed you pictures of Kate Middleton playing field hockey to explain that princesses can be real people too, and now you love to say how princesses are strong and fast and wear pants and plays golf.
- When we signed you up for tumbling class you were hesitant at first but when asked how a kitty moves you couldn't contain yourself and burst out with crawling and "MEOW!" You loved tumbling class!

- You love picking out clothes for baby sister. "She'll look boo-tiful in this!"
- You regularly do entire scene-by-scene remakes of movies, with the lines and staging down exactly.
- You love to imitate all that baby sister does - sucking a paci, swing, tummy time.
- My uncle passed away after getting hit by a car, and you kept repeating, "A different John [my sister's boyfriend is also John, so the John that died was 'a different John'] died, he got hit by a car, but I'll give him ice pack to make it better."
- One day I told you to hold onto something so you didn't lose it, and you said, "Yes, I don't want it to walk off!" You picked that up from daycare.
- Suddenly, you only want to associate with other girls. You wanted me to go to a female checker at the grocery store, and didn't want to give grandpa a hug because "He's a boy!" Then you were telling me an imaginary story and said you built castles that boys peed in so you built a new castle, but they peed in that one too, and so you built a new castle and NO BOYS CAN COME IN. I was absolutely dying laughing at the story. Luckily, that phase only lasted a week or so, because it was awkward standing in line for the female checker when the male one was just waiting for a customer (I always let you pick out the check-out lane to go to - it's one of the small tricks that makes grocery shopping fun for both of us).
- You love to watch make-up tutorials on YouTube and try to do your makeup like they do, so I'll find you trying to get my make-up out so you can "paint my face like Elsa!"
- Loved watching the Olympics with me and cheering for different athletes. "GO, GREEN GIRL, GO!" You also invited them over to our house after the event: "You can come to our house and I'll give you some cereal and ice cream!"

March 2014
- After my cousin's daughter got Elsa and Anna dolls, I promised you them for meeting a certain (private) milestone. Little did I know that they were completely sold out EVERYWHERE. I finally found Anna locally, but spend days searching online for Elsa. I finally found it at a Target in Chicago, and a friend who lives there went to buy it for us and ship it here (still WAY cheaper than the prices online for her!). Every day you asked, "They're still making my Elsa? She's coming in the mail?"
- As an adult, words are set, but I'm sure to a child, they're just random sounds assigned to an item, which is why I love it that you constantly are making up words for names and meals. "What's your baby's name?" "Blagadadoo." "What are you eating?" "Nardoffy."
- For ages, you and your swim class friend Taylor have been the exact same height, then suddenly one class you were nearly two inches taller than her. Hello growth spurt?!?!
- "Hmm, let me think, yes."
- Went to the zoo and said, "Will the tigers eat me?" I said, no, they're behind glass, and you pouted: "Oh, but I want them to!" Also this trip you played on rocks and pretended that they were water and there were sharks in the water and one bit your arm off and very dramatically held your arm through the rest of the trip while telling people that a shark bit you.
- You started calling Nana just "Nan." Hilarious.
- You gave me something to keep in my pocket and said, "I don't want it to walk off!" (Must have gotten that from daycare.)
- Favorite game is the "fizzy game" when you drip vinegar on baking soda.

April 2014
- After you threw up, you kept saying, "Remember when I spit up?" with a super sad face. And told everyone about it. Over and over again.
- If I say, "I love you, Emmeline!" you quickly yell "WE ALL LOVE EMMELINE!"
- You love to play play-dough, particularly making dresses for dolls out of play-dough.
- You have these MagiClip dolls with dresses that come in two parts and come apart easily. You keep trying to mix up the different halves of the dresses (like use one piece from Elsa's dress and one half from Anna's dress to create a new one) and it doesn't work because they're shaped differently...but you just jam them together and sometimes tape them together and call it good.
- You sat and watched the big girls at dance class until I was mean and forced you to leave.

- You started to climb into our bed early in the morning...I tell your dad I don't like it and I want you out, but really I love it.
- You're eternally optimistic. If I tell you that a package that has arrived isn't what you were waiting for, you reply, "We hafta see! Maybe it is!"
- You picked out presents for your friend M's birthday and wanted to keep them. You begrudgingly agreed she could have them, but as we were walking in, you said, "But maybe she'll open them and say no thank you and give them back to me?"  (Doubtful, kid. But nice thought.)
- You want to know everyone's name, including completely strangers. As we're shopping, you'll ask, "What's her name?" about the checker.
- You climb out of bed and fall asleep in bizarre positions, like kneeling at your bed with your torso on the bed and your lower half next to it, or leaning up against a wall.
- Spring program at school! Nana and Grandma N came to watch.

May 2014
- We got butterflies and you were so protective over them and told them, "I'll keep you safe, butterflies."
- You're very into saying, "My turn first!" for everything, like if we're going down the stairs you'll jump in front of me and say, "My turn first!"
- In an effort to stay up later, you started calling, "Save me, I'm scared of my bedroom, there are monsters!" when going to bed.
- When looking at the moon: "It's kind of like the sun, but it's the moon!"
- "What are you doing back there, Carys?" [when in the backseat while I was driving] "I'm just talking to myself."
- While playing doctor: "You have a temperature of three eighty dollars."
- When I was cleaning: "You cleaning because someone's coming over?" (Sad answer is: probably.)
- You started preceding statements with a dramatic "Actually..." and a pause before continuing.
- You exclaim "Oh my gosh!"
- You call your little figurines "my girls" and "my guys."
- After discovering our nibbled-on tulips: "Oh my gosh, those rabbits ate all of our flowers! Those mean rabbits, we just planted them!"
- You decided to start wearing your swim goggles in the bathtub so you could "swim".

- When I had kidney stones, I was writhing on the floor in pain and you took such good care of me; rubbing my back, telling me I was going to be okay, and giving me hugs. Months later, you still talk about "that time the doctors came to our house to take care of mommy."
- Also with the kidney stones, I was in so much pain I was throwing up, so I grabbed the closest available container, which ended up being your potty chair. For days on end you were totally aghast: "Mommy, you spit in my potty! But I have to pee!!!!"
- Me: "What do you want for dinner?" You: "Ice cream." Me: "You want ice cream for dinner?" You: "No, for dessert." Me: "Okay, then what do you want for dinner?" You: "I don't want dinner. Just dessert!"
- "But it's my first time!!!" (I don't know exactly why or when you say this, but it's almost like an excuse you use when you're upset.)
- When putting on a short-sleeve PJ shirt you said, "Oh, it's short sleeves!" Then when putting on the pants, you continued, "But the pants are long sleeves!"
- "I TOOTED!" and dissolve into a fit of giggles.

June 2014
- We went to go work in the garden, and you said, "Are you ready to gard?"
- Keeps saying "got-for instead of "forgot"
- "That's interesting." Like "But it's my first time!" I'm not entirely sure what you think this means. You say it in response to things that I can't connect together so I wish I could read your mind. "Carys, can I play blocks with you?" "No, it's interesting!" Or I'll pretend to put your shoes on and you'll grab them off my feet and say, "No, those are my shoes! That's interesting!"
- "Emmeline, you're my most baby sister ever."
- I love when you bust out knowledge I didn't know you had, like when I said something was brown and you corrected me: "No, it's light brown!"
- You often request that I sing "The Carys song" which is when I replace the words in "You Are My Sunshine" with "You Are My Carys."
- You call all meals dinner.
- A couple days in a row I had stuff from my work lunch left over when I picked you up from daycare so I let you eat them in the car. The first time I didn't, you exclaimed, "Why you not have dinner for me in the car???"
- Regarding some water: "This is really tasty."
- "You're the best." (Are you trying to butter me up for something? It's working.)
 - "I'm winning!!! I'm winning!"....even when you are clearly not winning.
- I was running late to pick up Emmeline and told Carys we had to hurry to get her so Em wouldn't worry. The whole car ride she kept saying, "Here we come Emmeline, don't cry, we're driving to get you, we're coming for you, it's okay, don't be sad, here we come, your mom and Carys are coming to get you!!"
- Randomly one day while playing you dramatically fell to the floor and said, "Daddy bit my toe, I can't walk." (Note: dad was not even home.)
- When it was windy out: "HEY! Stop wind-ing my hair!!!"
- "Daddy, take a shower, you stink!"
- You ate some mulberries off the ground at our house and got sick from them, so whenever anyone went to the back yard you'd run up to them to say, "Ground, no!!! Tree, yes!!! You'll get sick!"
- Learning to "tightrope" walk on the lines in the sidewalk with Kimberly.

July 2014
- You like to act out Scooby Doo, particularly the part where the monster is handcuffed and de-masked. You asked us to handcuff you (or as you say, "Police me!!!") and then act surprised when we pretend to pull a mask off to see "It's just Carys!!!!!!!" We are then supposed to ask, "Why were you being a monster, Carys?"
- After spilling a drink and crying on your birthday: "It's not my birthday if I spilled my smoothie! Tomorrow can be my birthday and I won't spill!"
- You love to have me put both of your legs through one pant leg to give you a "mermaid tail" and will flop/crawl around the house like a mermaid.
- After getting a bowl out, filling it with water, then laying on the floor in order to dip your hair in it: "Look at my hair, mommy! It's so loooooooooong!" (Along those same lines, you won't let me fix or do ANYTHING to your hair at the moment because you want "looooooooooooong hair.")
- You loved watching fireworks for the most part, until one that was unexpectedly loud and big was set off a little to close to you (we were careful - it wasn't dangerous - just bigger/louder than we thought it'd be) and after that you were super wary of all of them.

WHEW. And Carys, if you're reading that list thinking you sound like every other toddler out there (you do) and nothing was that funny or ground-breaking (it was at the time! it's all in your delivery, I swear) all you have to know is that it was....to me. I have to jot it all down because I have to remember it all. I'm only living this time once and it's just not enough.

I see I did this with your last letter, so I'll keep it up. Right now, as I write this, your favorites are (note that these change regularly):

Favorite food: Ice cream or yogurt with sprinkles (chia seeds) or broccoli with cheese or plain baby spinach
Favorite drink: Milk
Favorite movie: Sword in the Stone
Favorite color: Pink or purple
Favorite clothes: Real clothes would be your coral 3/4 sleeve tunic with white dots or one of your dresses. Play clothes would be my pink and blue striped strapless dress that you wear all. the. time.
Favorite shoes: Toms (ok, once again, you don't care about your shoes...these are my favorite. Yours would probably be your purple flats if I made you choose.)
Favorite toy: Play-dough
Favorite book: Whatever library book we just checked out
Favorite park activity: SWINGS.

Some minor stats: You sleep from about 9pm to 7:30am with no nap usually. You go to daycare two days a week. You're 38" tall and weigh 34 pounds. You wear size 3T but 4T is....not falling off you. [SOB.] You know your numbers up to 20 though you get stuck around 16 sometimes and recognize almost all (maybe all?) of the letters. You can write C and H and X. Your favorite teacher at school is Ms. Brenna (in the green room). You have hazel eyes and light brown hair (or dark blonde?) that has these amaaaaaaazing curls that I hope never go away (but probably will, since Nana claims your aunt Jenna had similarly curly hair as a child).

You're beautiful and perfect and flawed and wonderful.

I love you, little girl. Keep on being you.

Did I mention I love you?

I love you.

Love,
Mama