Happy Birthday, S!

Dear, sweet S,

Today you are 3 years old. You are also, in your words, a big girl now.

But not too big. Please, not too big. Yet.

I look at you and your brothers some days and can’t believe my luck. Three healthy, strong, smart children. Or you could say, as in Lake Wobegon, above average. In my thoroughly unbiased opinion, of course.

I thought I knew what I was getting into when you were born. After all, I already had two kids. I was wrong. You have surprised me so often as you have made your unique self known to me and to your father and brothers and to family and friends.

I’ve gone to great lengths not to overdo it on “girl” stuff in this house, yet sometimes it seems to me that you find ways to show me how much of a girl you are. For example, you put your stuffed animals to bed like babies (though you tuck trains in right next to them), you twirl…things your brothers just never, never did. It’s different, but it’s fun and exciting different so far.

I joke about you, that as a younger sister to two brothers, you are no shrinking violet. You get right into it with them. You tease them and goad them. But you have the act down well, you do. You can cry real tears in an instant at any insult, real (rare) or perceived (more likely). Then you know just when to turn the mischief into real affection and offer the boys hugs or the occasional kiss. I love watching you with them.

Some other things I love about you:

• Your belly, and how ticklish you are.

• Your grumpy face. When you drop your chin to your chest, push out your bottom lip, and furrow your brow. And how I can make you laugh by doing that face right back at you.

• How, at bedtime, you put a hand on each of my cheeks and squeeze and say, “I want you, Mommy.”

• Your hair in pigtails, when you let me.

• How you ask for “Friday eggs” for breakfast. Or “choclik” on toast (also known as Nutella).

• How your favorite colors are pink and purple and no one else in the family is allowed to have them as favorites.

• The way you curl into my lap for reading books.

• That you love baseball. With all this early practice, you may well be a better player than either of your brothers. Try not to rub that in to C, ‘k?

• How much you love Dora (and her friends). Most of the time I love that anyway. Swipper not so much.

• The way, when your daddy comes home, you shout, “Yeah! My daddy’s home!” Your daddy, by the way, lives for that moment.

• How you must be the leader to the car at least once a day.

• The way you always ask to give our cat, Mr. S, a treat.

• The way you scream for your daddy when things get a little tough with me, discipline-wise. Okay, maybe I don’t love that, but I respect where you are coming from. I tried the same thing when I was your age.

• The way you like to sing, especially the ABC song.

• How you dance and twirl.

• The way you try to get out of finishing your dinner by leaning over, putting your arms around M, closing your eyes and sighing.

• The way you say “I love you, too, Mommy.” Gets me every time.

That’s just a sampling. I could go on and on. And on.

As I write this, I realize I never wrote your birth story or your first birthday letter, things I did for each of your brothers. I couldn’t write personal things for a very long time, and you birth and first two years was right in the midst of that. I hope you will forgive me. It was no slight to you, I promise. As the third child in my family, I’ve always promised I wouldn’t let important things like photos and baby books and memories of my third child fall by the wayside, and, really, they haven’t. It’s just the writing. I do know that it will be important years from now for you to have those writings like your brothers do. I think writing here will help me get to writing those bits, and sooner rather than later.

But first, tonight, we’ll have your cake with blackberries and strawberries. And there will be three big girl candles on it for you to blow out.

Today, on your third birthday, I see a bright and inquisitive and mischievous and rough-and-tumble and gentle and strong-willed and loving little girl. I hope you’ll continue to be all those things.

I love you, S.