Well, Choo Choo, today I’m having a “last” moment. Today was your last full day as a three year-old. Tomorrow is your birthday. Tomorrow, you turn four.
And I will miss you being three immensely. You are my last three year-old.
A long time ago, when Mommy was first pregnant with Monkey, she asked me what year I was looking most forward to. I said “three”, though I wasn’t really sure why. I think I was mildly convinced, having absolutely no data to support my claim, that three was the perfect balance of wisdom (notably the ability to hold a conversation), and cuteness (still being a little kid without the burden of having to act like an older kid).
It turns out I was right. Three really is the perfect age.
I’ve been dreading this day for a long time. I’m losing the last real “child” in my life — you’re growing older, and getting bigger, and acting different with each day. It’s not an easy thing to appreciate, losing one’s innocence, and even less so when it’s someone else’s.
I probably remember your birth day more clearly than Monkey’s. That’s mostly likely because it was highly scheduled, anticipated, and planned. Which, of course, meant that it was completely opposite of all that. And yet, despite the adversity, you turned out as beautiful as I could ever hope or imagine.
Only last summer did I realize that you were no longer a baby, or even a toddler. I made the mistake of noticing that your legs extended some distance from your torso. It sounds like a strange thing to say, I know, but wee babes don’t have long legs; yours were longer than I’d remembered. And suddenly, you were no longer a wee babe.
Tomorrow, you cease being three. And I’m having trouble with that. I’d keep you at three, if I could. I’d keep you as young, innocent, and wonderful as you are today. But I can’t. I can only pray that I can remember you as you are today, with your wonder and amusement at everything you see.
I will miss you, Choo Choo at three years old. My wonderful little girl, who has given me so much joy.
I hope that there are many years of joy yet to come.