Like Natalie, you had swimming lessons last month. And like Natalie, you improved a lot after that week of lessons. And like Natalie last summer, you had 0% desire to put your face under the water. You were convinced you could swim with your face above water. (Note: you were 0% successful). You did, however, jump into the pool (into your teacher's arms) on the third day. And a few hours after your last lesson, you discovered the wonder of getting dunked. I dunked you about 50 times that afternoon. This Mommy-dunks-Charlie or Daddy-dunks-Charlie game continued for a week or so until you realized that you could dunk yourself. It must be noted that Daddy and I repeatedly told you that you could dunk yourself, but as is so often the case with the SmithKids, you didn't believe us until you found out for yourself. My arm muscles are so thankful you did.
And you've started to swim. Well, not really. I mean, you're in the position to swim - face down, arms out, legs out - but there really isn't much forward progress made. You're doing a great job of Uncoordinated, Asynchronous Paddling. Despite not going forward very much, you're so. proud. of yourself.
You're starting preschool in a few weeks at a nearby church. You're so excited, and you ask no fewer than five times every day, "Do I go to pweschool today?" Telling you that you start in two weeks doesn't help. You have no concept of time; I could tell you that you start in two flibbertyjoobs and it would probably mean just as much.
I never know if you or Natalie will wake up first each morning. You two are consistently inconsistent. On the days you wake up first, you come into the living room and join me on the couch. You snuggle under my blanket and give a big, content, exaggerated sigh. It's so fun. Then you begin to tell me about the wildly fantastical dreams you had. Sometimes you're Batman (because, duh), sometimes you're a hot dog, sometimes you're flying, and sometimes you're cooking. You get louder and louder, more and more expressive, so that by the end, you're making big hand motions, your eyes are wide, and you're practically jumping out of your skin. If the Batman gig doesn't pan out, you should be a professional story-teller.
You're in a stage where you don't like to play by yourself. Like, ever. And I have to remind myself that something like Quiet Time probably makes zero sense to a three-year-old. Like, why would someone want to be quiet? Why would someone want to play by himself in his room? Why does Mommy need Mommy Time? (Answer: so she doesn't get any crazier). I'm sure it'll get easier. I remember Natalie acting like this when she was your age. She's finally gotten to the age where she craves quiet time (most days). But you think the whole notion gets a big ol' Thumbs Down. So I'll continue to explain how everybody needs a little down time each day. And those words will continue to go in one ear and fly out the other one. Until one day, you figure it out for yourself. And I'll get to watch an episode of Cutthroat Kitchen without any interruptions.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
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Headlines for August 9, 2015:
- Typhoon Soudelor Hits Taiwan and China
- Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux Are Married
- Families Calls off Private Search for Missing Teen Boaters, Perry Cohen and Austin Stephanos
- Man Gets a Year for Printing $100 Bills in Casino Hotel Room
- Donald Trump Booed at Republican Presidential Debate, Takes Shot at Rosie O'Donnell
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