Dear Katie,

Happy birthday sweet girl…you’re two!  You are bursting with energy, bubbling with enthusiasm and full of all the inquisitiveness and wonder of being two.

It’s quite different having a girl around here.  I’m used to rough and tumble boys.  Swords and guns and blocks and cars.  You offer us a glimpse of a softer side to humanity.  You’re the first on the scene when someone is hurt.  You intuitively know how to comfort anyone who’s crying…you offer a hug and a kiss and the boys watch through tears as you trace your closed fist around your chest, signing to them that you’re sorry.  You make everyone feel better with your gentle touch.

You love dressing up.  You love to put on your high heels and parade around the house.  You like skirts, but hate dresses.  You love shoes.  Any shoes.  All shoes.  Especially boots.  You like tights and socks, but you hate hair accessories…hairbands and hats only last seconds on your head.  You tolerate helmets…you even make wearing a helmet look fashionable.

You love to look at yourself.  You smile to yourself, laugh at yourself and sometimes just admire yourself.  (We admire you, too!)

You like dolls and purses and little tiny toys (you know, the ones that get caught in the couch and under our feet).  You like to line things up just so on the windowsill.  All in a line.  Perfectly arranged.  You like things neat and orderly (considering that this might dramatically change during your teen years, I thought that warranted a comment here and now).  Unlike the boys, you naturally like to pick up your toys and put them all away when you’re done.

You love playing outdoors.  You love blowing bubbles, mixing sand and water, running with the boys and swinging “higher! higher!”  You’re favorite outdoor place is the beach.  You laugh at the waves and giggle at the wildlife.  However, you do tend to cringe at the sight of any bug and you cover your eyes when you hear thunder, claiming it “sceerches” you (that’s Katie talk for “scares”).

You love art.  Paint.  Crayons.  Markers.  Dough.  Mud.  You never shy away from a mess…in fact, you revel in it.  You literally cover your hands with some gooey, sticky medium and then you squish your fingers together as if it’s the most magical thing in the world.

When I start to wash the vegetables or sigh dramatically at the stack of dishes that need to be washed, I hear the scraping of wooden chair legs on our tile floor.  Soon I see your little head pop up beside me at the bar.  And you beg to help.  Really…you want to help.  You want to be a part of this adult world of mine.  You offer assistance in washing dishes, cleaning floors, scrubbing toilets, folding laundry.  And I take you up on your offer every.single.time.  I like having you near me and I  like having your help.

You don’t talk much yet.  Your sentences still consist of very few words put together haphazardly.  Things like “throw ball”, “bug here”, “look boys!” You may not talk much, but you’re taking it all in.  You love to read (your favorite book being Busy Timmy right now) and you love Rachel and the Treeschoolers.  You like to sing and dance (especially to the Dixie Chicks and Taylor Swift) and if there’s a mat in sight, you are quick to show us how you can do a forward roll.

You absolutely adore your Daddy.  You call him “di-ya” and you giggle just at the sight of him, knowing he’s ready to tickle you and chase you around the house.    Your brothers enjoy your company, eager to read to you, play with you or simply snuggle with you.  You like to do whatever the boys are doing and you hold your own quite well.

You still nurse.  Frequently.  You put your little hands up, one on each of my cheeks and you pull my face close to yours.  Your nose touches mine and you whisper softly, “Milk, mommy, milk.”  My heart melts.

I am so very thankful to have you in my life.  You breathe your sweet energy into my soul and my heart is literally filled with joy.  I love you sweet one!

Love, Mommy