Memo to Emmy: 41 Months

Darling Emmy,

Who is this little girl who told her music teacher, "You can call me Emmy or Emerson." I haven't figured out what your talent is but I think you are a really good talker for your age. 

We asked what you want to be when you grow up.

You: Bigger. 

No D'oy! Your logic is absolute and you like to reason aloud. "I can pee all by myself but I need you to move my stool so I can step up. Because I just washed my hands and they are all clean."

You are so sensitive. It is sweet to behold. I don't really know where you get that, as I am not a particularly sensitive person in any way. Your dad has normal sensitivity. But you are hyper aware of how people feel in any given situation. You also take any criticism or correction quite hard. We have to be careful to explain to you why you should not do certain things, such as walk into the street without holding our hands.

But if we say something a little too sharply, you are cut to the core. We rarely have to scold you, and if we do, we have to pull back pretty quickly because you get the point, right away. Some crocodile tears? Heck yes. And sometimes I need to ask if you want cheese with your whine, but White Grandma says your dad's whining was bad enough to make her pull over the car, so we'll blame genetics for that one.

I can't believe you're a 3 year old sometimes because you're supposed to test your boundaries and do things that get you yelled at. But we can save our breath. You just want everyone to be happy and you are such a good girl. It's really refreshing. I think your little sister is going to give us a run for the border though. She's already a loudmouth. 

You love to turn the tables on us and tell us stuff that we tell you, like "Use your imagi'ation, Mommy" when you ask for the umpteenth time "Why Something is the Way It Is" and the answer is "That's Just the Way It Is," or "Emmy, the dishwasher is called the dishwasher because it washes dishes." You: "But why?" Me: I don't know, Emmy." You: "Use your imagi'ation."

Or if we're reading a book to you and you ask us what someone is saying and we say, "What do you think?" You answer with: "You think, Daddy." Only it comes out more like "You fink, Daddy." Your TH sounds and L's are still coming along, but you're not so shy about practicing now so there's hope yet.

Lately you have mini meltdowns on the way to your ballet/tap class. It used to be fun for you, and by "fun" I mean you were ambivalent about it. But now you cry and tell us you don't want to go. But we can't see any obvious reason for your freak outs. It's not like the teacher has a whip or you have to plie over hot coals. You even faked a cough to try to get out of the class. You: *Cough cough* "But Daddy, I have a cough. I can't go in. *cough* See?" #nicetry

You can spell using your bath tub floaty letters. Words like "fun," "big," "hat," "bug." Really impressive; I give Daddy credit for working on all your letters and vowel sounds.

Another milestone: thanks to your buddy Ashley, you can now ride a tricycle! Your stamina leaves much to be desired but you've figured out how to pedal and you can actual propel yourself forward. Exciting! The scooter is still a pretty sorry sight. You literally move an inch per scoot. It would be hilarious if I weren't actually trying to get somewhere faster than one sidewalk square per hour.

I guess there are worse things than having a Cautious Kelly for a daughter.

You pick out your outfits and you're a big fan of sticker earrings. I always said it wouldn't matter if I had a girl or a boy but I think 51% of me wanted to have a girl so I could share the girly moments with my daughter. You are all that and more Big Sis. 

Love you and all your quirks,