Darling Daughter,
It’s been a while since I’ve written an actual letter to you, and I’m a bit rusty. I’m not sure how I was able to maintain writing a letter a day to you during your first year on this side of my body, and these days I rarely write more than a few sentences without using any emoji. That said, I want to begin a new practice of writing actual letters to you, so it can serve as a reminder of just how special you are to me.
Let’s start with some stats:
You are about 3.75 years old and going through that wild threenager stage. Our friends reassure me that this level of boundary-pushing will pass, but secretly I am thrilled that you are so headstrong. When you were younger, I was worried that you would always allow people to step over your boundaries as I saw you just watching people as they grabbed toys from you instead of asserting your right to continue playing with your own toys. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about being able to tell people “I don’t like that” and role-playing how to handle these situations with the help of Daniel Tiger. I’m pretty sure that we are heading into a time when we will need to work on pulling back some of that assertiveness so you can learn how to graciously handle other people’s feelings as well as your own. Nevertheless, those are still big lessons that you will learn in time, and I’m thrilled that I will be able to witness your growth.
You love being independent and figuring out how to do things on your own. Your newest expression is “Mommy, I need some privacy,” which you use repeatedly through the day when you want to be alone. I admit that I wasn’t quite ready for you to pull back this much; I remember how you could barely leave my side just a few months ago. I still need to work on my own feelings about this change, and I admit that I don’t quite know where the boundaries are with how much independence is reasonable and necessary. Despite my own hesitation, I adore watching your newfound joy in independence, and I admire how much courage it has taken you to develop this skill.
You are also learning how to be a good friend and a gracious hostess. Although it’s out of my current comfort zone, it’s obvious that you need to surround yourself with people, so I have been pushing myself to make play dates and events where you have the opportunity to spend time with other kids. Just today, we had a large number of people from our homeschooling group over for a class about winter bird feeders. I was so proud of how you interacted with the other kids. You were gracious with your toys, and you included everyone in the activities. Your insistence that everyone learned about the rules was also helpful (and hilarious). When our guests arrived and left, your greetings and goodbyes were impeccable for your age, and while people were here, you were happy to share my attention with others. This is a remarkable change from how you used to cling to me and hide behind my legs, preventing me from interacting with other adults. I look forward to seeing more of this side of you.
You’ve been nurturing strong interests in process art, numbers (except for poor number eight), books, jumping, dancing, singing, and playing hide-and-seek. Your burgeoning desire to learn more about letters is making my English-teacher heart flutter with joy, and I’m excited to work more officially on learning letters. This coming February we will be leading a special class for our homeschooling group that combines all of your favorite things, and I can’t wait for us to share some of your favorite books with our newfound friends. Being able to make art with them for the second half of the class will be an even better adventure. I hope that your desire to be a good friend and a gracious hostess will translate into being an excellent teacher and guide for your new classmates. Regardless of how it turns out, I am delighted to share this experience with you.
Let’s do this, my darling girl. I’ve missed writing to you, and it seems as though I’m still relatively capable of putting grammatically correct sentences together. After 3.75 years of sleep deprivation, I wasn’t sure I still could.
Until next time, darling.
Heidi aka Mommy
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