“Boots beets bats beets toots.
Beets abby do ba dee do
It’s very clear to see
Bob the Builder we can do it
Bob the Builder yes we can!”
You turn three and a quarter today, and during the the three months it’s taken us to finally write one of these “monthly” letters, you’ve occupied yourself mostly by composing songs (like that one), adoring your sister, and engaging in a little multiple personality hijinks.
Joey and Dodo, your two most common imaginary visitors, come less frequently these days. In their stead you take on the personalities of “Mimi” or “Petey” (who appear to be the same person). Mimi-Petey, amazingly, is a lot like you, although she’s always on her best behavior — she acts exactly like you do with your grandparents, aunts, and uncles when we’re not around.
Notification that you’ve transformed into Mimi usually comes when you ask something along the lines of “Is Boobaby coming with us today?” or “Where will Boobaby sleep?” It doesn’t faze us anymore, but it’s a little amusing to see people who don’t know this game try to come up with a response.
You’re terrific with your sister, though you do get frustrated sometimes when the Blueberry steals the attention that is, after all, rightfully yours. Most of the time, however, you offer hugs and kisses when she’s crying and ply her with toys when she’s not. We’re a little jealous, in fact, at how quickly you can console her — you’re fairly clearly her favorite form of entertainment.
We are constantly amazed with how big you’re getting. You’re really tall. Your hands are real kid’s hands. You’ve lost all trace of baby fat and straightened out into a big girl. It’s jarring sometimes to see you jump easily off a ledge that would have stymied you (or meant a skinned knee) even three months ago.
We recently accomplished a major milestone: the elimination of all tangles from your hair. Despite the professional advice of a purported children’s hair specialist, we managed — through multiple viewings of Mary Poppins as we laboriously picked out every knot — to return your hair to its original, waist-length, dreadlock-free splendor.
In other news, you’ve started the next level of tumbling class, the one where you no longer have a parent accompany you. We watch from the bleachers as a coach directs you on the trapeze and trampoline — your first experience as an independent student. You took to it amazingly well, and that’s just one good sign that you’ll adapt well to nursery school. That starts in June — less than a month away! — and you’re apparently pretty ready. Already, you’ve asked for a computer (“for school!") and a desk (“for school!") and you’ve taken to washing your face in a novel and particular way (“for school!").
Well done, and sorry we haven’t written so much. Things are getting easier.
We love you very, very much,
Working Mom & Doodaddy