The Binkie Effect - For Sawyer On Her 3rd Birthday
Well, here we are, nearly 3 years after you were forced into this world - you'd have stayed in my belly for another year if we'd let you! Your Dada has been saying you're "almost 3" since Christmas, and I just say "She's 2." End of story.
As your mama, I get emotional over various things, and though my heart swells with gratitude, thankfulness and pride for you, this transition to the Big Girl stage has left me a little off-balance. I mean I blinked and all of a sudden you're fully potty trained (even through the night!), you're in preschool a couple days a week, you're cracking jokes...and then there's your clothes.
A few weeks ago we did a wardrobe replenishment for you and I gasped as I saw the size difference between the size 2 and size 4 pants. You really are a big girl! I know, I know, you remind me daily to call you Big Girl when I accidentally say Baby. I suggested I use Babe instead. You said Bean-Babe. Such a negotiator.
You're still a little Daredevil and plenty brave and you still don't like to be dirty. I explained to someone recently you would jump off the highest point possible as long as it was in the cleanest environment possible.
You are incredibly observant and you want to learn and memorize! You want to play songs over and over until you know all the words by heart! (at this point in time it's anything Mary Poppins!)
You've been full of empathy since birth, straining your neck with a concerned look whenever you heard anyone crying. As soon as you could walk, you'd try to find them in order to give them a hug. Not long ago, you began to well with emotion during a sad episode of Mickey or Doc McStuffins and I held you as you explained the injustice that made you so upset.
But, my girl, you still plead with me to lay down with you at nap time and bedtime, and though I find it is an offer near impossible to refuse, sometimes we both need our alone time. But I still check on you and listen for that sound.
Back when you were still a real baby, I discovered you suck your binkie a certain way once you fall asleep. Whether I'm holding you or listening over the monitor, I hear a definite change in pace, velocity and rhythm. Most people think you are waking up, but every time I hear it I smile.
I smile because it's one of several tidbits about you that makes you uniquely known by your mother. This trait, however special to me, will be disappearing next week when we say farewell to the binkies entirely. Saying goodbye to this piece of your childhood I'm guessing will be equally difficult for the both of us.
You have always loved those binkies.
Your Dada enjoys this age, but looks forward to stages beyond toddler and pre-school. He can't wait to play Sunday afternoon Monopoly and have deep philosophical (and probably Theological) discussions with you. And your mama, well, she tries to slow down time. Since I'm home with you the majority of the time, I get to see the world through your eyes every day. I get to be reminded of the simple, obvious things about the world and life that I haven't noticed in a while; like when a bird chirps, or an airplane flies by, how warm the sun feels or how different rocks are from one another and oh how every flower smells SO GOOD!
You're my window into child-like wonder, and while I'm here to help train you in the way you should go, you help remind me about where I should return. I try not to rush you too often, though being on time is something you'll need to learn, for the most part, wandering in wonder is such a beautiful part of your childhood that I hope no one squashes, not even me.
Happy Birthday Sweet girl. My Sawyer. My Bean. My Beanie-Babe, My Big Girl.