Mila 2.5

Little Mimi,

Today you are two and a half.

I know! I KNOW! I'd bore you with the details about how it feels like we just brought you home yesterday, but you only sit still for so long these days.

Two and a half is hard, Mimi. For both of us. You are sassy, spunky, strong-willed, determined and every other adjective one can think of to politely say you are deep in the throws of the terrible twos.

A spitfire, I tell ya. And a cute one to boot-the worst combination.

It's hard and some days I feel like pulling my hair out, but just when I think I can't muster up the energy to calmly handle another tantrum I hear you quietly singing in the living room-a made up song with a chorus that repeats, " I love Mommy! I love Mommy! I LOVE YOU MOMMA!"

And my heart melts.

You are, unfailingly, a Mommy's girl at two and a half-it's the redeeming quality that accompanies your terrible twos. It's my name you yell out each morning when you wake. If anyone were to ask you what you dreamt about the night before you will always reply, "Momma." You beg me to "cawwy you" wherever we go, you seek me out in a crowd for reassurance and it's my name you chant as you drift off to sleep.

I hope you are a Mommy's girl at age five, too. And at age fifteen and at age thirty. And so on and so on.

Separation anxiety is currently kicking both of our butts. You are terrified of being left some place without Mommy by your side. We both (barely) survived your first go at summer school.  You're not a fan of strangers talking to you. Or smiling at you. Or, heck, even looking at you. You'll start a pre-preschool program at a local church in a few weeks and I'm sure there will be tears from both of us on drop off day. I'm hoping and praying mine won't fall until I'm safely out of your sight.

You are officially a "girly" girl -you love high heels and dresses and skirts and babies. You adore your brother and have taken to calling Daddy, "DAN!" You are smart-you can count to twenty two, sing the ABCs and spell your name with ease. You like to dance and sing. You have the vocabulary of a six year old. You love to play doctor and school. You are terrified of tubing behind the boat and hand dryers in public restrooms. You beg me to rub your back every night before bed. You love cuddling and Maisy books. You could live on cherry tomatoes and cheese sticks.

 

 

 

You are charming and energetic, fun and a little crazy. You make our lives happier, wilder and fuller. Each morning when you call my name, I am so happy to come in and see your sweet face again.

Happy 2.5, peanut!

Love you,

Momma