Amelia: Almost Three

Dear Amelia,

In less than a week you will be three years old.

A few weeks ago, thinking about that brought tears to my eyes. Three marks the end of your toddlerhood. At three you will be a preschooler, a little girl. Yes, still my baby, but not my baby any more.

This week, I have started to wonder if you and I will both survive to see your third birthday. I have begun to believe that three is not your age, but your hurricane classification.

You are doing what you should be doing, I guess. You are testing the boundaries, asserting your independence, becoming a big girl. (Could you work on becoming a big girl when it comes to falling asleep and STAYING asleep at night?)

You also are, in equal measure, testing my very last ounce of patience, making me laugh, causing my hair turn gray from exasperation, and leading me to shake my head in amazement at the new things you come up with every day.

To sum up the tail end of your second year, let me tell you what happened today.

Today, you and I went to the library. As is your wont these days, you didn't want to leave. You agreed to leave if you could carry one of your books. Because, like everything else, you can do it yourself.

I gave you your choice, but as soon as you picked you wanted something different and began to wail. You sat down on the floor and cried. It was the start of a good fit, something you've started to do all too often in the last few weeks.

I walked away.

Yep. I did.

I looked at you and chuckled and said, "Come on, Amelia. Let's go." And I headed for the door.

When I reached the door you were still sitting in the middle of the floor halfway into your fit. But when I started to open the door, a frightened look came over your face.

"Mommy! Don't leave without me!" you cried.

Under my breath I muttered, "Then don't make it so tempting."

But to you I said, "I won't leave you. But it's time for us to go, so come on."

You picked yourself up, dried your tears and came running. You started to chatter in your sunny way, and all was forgotten as we moved forward.

So here we are, my child. You can do so many things by yourself, more and more every day. You want to be independent, and I want that for you, too. But, I think we're both glad that, for now, you still need your mommy.

All my love always,

Mommy