A letter to Phookie on her 3rd birthday

Dear Phookie,

Here we are. Three. Your momma has been so busy the past couple weeks and is so tired and is so sorry that this letter may not be able to express much of anything of value. But here we go.

Phook, Phook, Phook. The "terrible twos" officially came to a close for you today, but I'm pleased to say that for you, it was the "terrific twos." Sure, you went gonzo your share of times and we've had our highly unpleasant battles of wills, but all in all, this year has been pretty awesome.

There was a shift this year. In the past, I've written about your shyness and your "slow to warm up" tendencies, but that has begun to fade away. Two weeks ago, storytime at the library started up after the summer break, and the lady who reads the stories could not believe you were the same child. Rather than quietly sitting on your carpet square sipping your juice box, you were leaping up to answer each of her questions. "That's a hippopominus!" you shouted in one of your awesome mispronunciations. You were eager. You were confident. You were engaged. You knew all the answers. You were something so very different than you were a year ago. And I was so proud.

This year, something also shifted in the way I viewed you. Rather than viewing you as vulnerable, I came to view you as strong. So incredibly strong. And you are so incredibly responsible for your age. And sensible. And reasonable. And thoughtful. And empathetic. And observant. And funny. And beautiful. You, my little girl, are amazing. You are amazing as a person who has just turned three. I do not know exactly what you will do with yourself as an adult (other than your proclamation that you will be driving airplanes), but you will be something. Something fierce. Something fantastic.

I do not worry how you will turn out. I think about your future all the time, but I don't worry how you will turn out.

I know.

You are an incredible little person with capabilities and traits that don't belong on someone your age. You will never be anything other than amazing. So I don't wonder. I know.

I love you, Phook. I am amazed by you, Phook. You are three, which is mind blowing but somehow not as devastating as I once felt the loss of your babyhood was. I am just loving watching you grow. Watching you learn. Watching you soar.


I was so lucky to have you be my baby. But I am far luckier to have you be my daughter.

Love,
Momma