So I didn't think I'd have to worry about this for at LEAST 10 years, but you, my darling, have become quite the backseat driver. Like, for REAL. You know that green means 'go', yellow means 'caution', and that red means 'stop'. That's where your knowledge ends, but that sure as heck doesn't stop you from telling me how to drive. If you see a red light, you screech "Stop, Momma!" I have a hard time explaining that while a red light DOES mean 'stop', it doesn't, however, mean you should stop as soon as you see the red light (especially if you have another 500 feet to go before getting to the aforementioned red light. And that while a green light DOES mean 'go', I can't GO anywhere if the car in front of me hasn't GONE yet. And the whole 'turn-right-on-red' thing causes you to flip your lid. "Momma, that yight was WED!!! You can't GO when da yight is WED! You can GO when da yight is GWEEN! Momma, stop going!! STOPPPPPPPPPP!!!") And if we're at a red light, you repeat "still a wed yight" over and over and over again until the light turns green. Then you screech "GO MOMMA!" I'm considering having someone install the kind of retractable privacy panel that limos have. You're three. Be three. Focus on playing with your Magna Doodle, eating your raisins, and singing Jesus Yuhves Me. Leave the driving to the person who's tall enough to reach the pedals. And, you know, actually taken a driving class.
You love telling and hearing jokes. Especially knock-knock jokes. You think the "Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Boo." "Boo who?" "Don't cry!" is the funniest joke EVER. After we do that joke a few times, you think it's awesome when we do the "Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Orange." Orange who?" "Orange you glad I didn't say 'Boo!'!" joke. Another one of your favorites in the Interrupting Cow joke (it's my personal favorite).
Me: Knock knock.
You: Who's there?
Me: Interrupting cow.
You: Interrup---
Me: MOO!
You: [cue hysterics]
You haven't quite mastered the finesse and timing of joke telling. Here's how the above jokes often go:
You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
You: Oh-wange.
Me: Orange who?
You: Don't cwy!
Um, okay. I won't cry.
You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
You: Intewupting cow.
Me: Interrupting cow who?
You: MOO!
Hm. Not really an 'interrupting cow'. More like 'very polite cow'.
You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
You: Intewupting cow. MOO!
Hmph. Didn't even give me the chance to do MY part.
You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
You: Intewupting cow.
Me: Interrupting cow who?
You: Intewupting cow you gwad I didn't say boo!
Wait, what?
You frequently like to ask Daddy and me how our day was. Sometimes you ask while we're eating breakfast, so there's really not a whole lot of information to share. Other times, you ask before bedtime, and we have lots to share. Depending on how creative my brain is feeling, I either tell you about the fantastically wonderful adventures I did (I climbed a mountain, I painted a masterpiece, I flew an airplane) or the completely true albeit slightly dull adventures (I brushed my teeth, I got dressed, I filled the van up with gas). You're fascinated by what Daddy does at work. You listen so intently when Daddy tells you how his day was, and ask all sorts of questions. You want to know the names of everyone in his meeting, the names of who he talked to on the phone, what each email was about, etc. It's really, really funny. When Daddy or I ask you how YOUR day was, this is how the conversation goes:
Daddy: How was your day, Natalie?
You: Gweat! [great!]
Daddy: What did you do?
You: Wellllllll ... I wote [wrote] some paper-woke [paperwork].
Daddy: What kind of paperwork?
You: Oh, you know, just weh-gue-yer [regular] paper-woke.
Daddy: Ah, I see. What else did you do today?
You: Ummmm, I had six meetings in five days.
Daddy: Wow! That's a lot of meetings!
You: Yots and YOTS of meetings!
Daddy: Did you do anything else today?
You: Yep. I talked to some phone calls.
Daddy: Oh yeah? Who?
You: Um, just some people I woke [work] with.
Daddy: What are their names?
You: Um ... Mommy ... and Daddy ... and Naydon [this is a name that you pulled out of thin air a few months ago. You think it's the best name ever.]
Daddy: That sounds like a lot of fun!
You: Yep! And then I came home to you!
So you're probably going to be embarrassed that I put this on the Internet, but, well, let's face it: if I don't embarrass you at least once a month, I get a nasty letter from the National Associations of Mothers. And my ego is fragile; I don't want a nasty letter. But to minimize the embarrassment, I'll be vague. Hmm. Let's see how to put this. You finally did, um ... something ... in, um, ... a certain receptacle in a certain room in the house. Yes, you were three before you used the, um, certain receptacle. But you know what? As much as I wanted you to be ready well (WELL) before you turned three, YOU weren't ready. And regardless of how much *I* wanted you to be ready, deep down I knew that didn't matter at all. Until YOU decided to be ready, it would be a futile effort. I tried to bribe you with certain articles of clothing ... specifically, certain articles of clothing plastered with Minnie Mouse's and Hello Kitty's faces. But again, until YOU decided to be ready, you just looked at these certain articles of clothing with something that can only be described as 'disdain'. Until recently. One day, I asked you if you were ready, and lo and behold, you said you were. The disadvantage of you being three before using the aforementioned receptacle is that I spent a lot more on diapers than other moms. The advantage of you being three before using the aforementioned receptacle is that I probably have to deal with a lot fewer accidents. Once you got it, you really got it. You don't run to the aforementioned certain room. You say "Hey Mommy, I gotta go." And you walk calmly (or as calmly as a crackhead three-year-old can walk) to the bathr-- shoot, I meant the 'aforementioned certain room'. I broke the cardinal rule of rewarding successful trips to this aforementioned room by giving you a piece of chocolate for your first successful trip. I know, I know - mothers everywhere are rolling their eyes at me. "Don't you DARE give her chocolate! She'll come to expect it every time she goes! And when she DOESN'T get it, she'll regress and have more accidents." Whoops. My bad. Thankfully though, you seem okay with not getting a treat every time you go. You were pretty bummed at first, but I appealed to your right-brain-ness and explained how you can't have chocolate all the time. Chocolate is only a sometimes food. You'll get sick if you have chocolate every time you go. You seemed to buy it. Ha.
You had Charlie had your first 'conversation' a few days ago. First off, he thinks you ROCK. He fusses if he's in a position to where he can't see you; his eyes twinkle when you talk to him. For your conversation, he started cooing and you cooed back. Then he cooed some more. Then you did some more. Back and forth. Back and forth some more. My heart practically exploded from the cuteness overload.
You had your birthday party a few weeks ago. It was more than what we would normally do for a birthday party, but since you've had your world turned on its ear recently, and a lot of attention has been directed towards Charlie, Daddy and I really wanted you to have a day that was all about you. The Day o' Natalie was a rousing success. I'm kind of bummed because I highly doubt you'll even remember this party when you're older, but trust me - you had a blast. You bounced, you jumped, you slid, you played with dolls, you giggled incessantly, and you ate too much sugar. It was perfect, and just what Daddy and I wanted to do. But don't think that you're gonna have a party like that every year. Unless you get a job and help to foot the bill. Maybe Publix would hire you to taste test their sprinkle cookies. In addition to being a fantastic kid, you're also a top-notch cookie eater.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for February 1, 2012:
- Romney grabs a decisive win in Florida
- 1 million birth control packets recalled: 'unintended pregnancy'
- 11th victim found days after deadly Fla. crash
- McDonald's drops use of gooey 'pink slime' in meat
- Breaking down Super Bowl XLVI
- As Facebook prepares to go public, investors wonder whether Zuckerberg has a twist in store
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