Dear Heart

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My dearest beautiful three-year-old princess, baby pony, pretty kitty, baby unicorn, scary shark, or whatever role you're playing today,

Or rather, my dear heart...

...because that is what you are.  You are not just in my heart, as the book says.  You are my heart.  And I must say, it gets more and more painful the further you walk away from me.  This organ that's "supposed" to stay a part of my body - severing itself more and more.

You are growing up, and that's good.  But I hold on, wanting to protect my heart, knowing if anything bad happens to it, to you, I'll be feeling it even more.

You call me "Mom," and check for my reaction. Satisfied, you repeat it, allocating me to a new role in your life.  No longer "Mom-me," it's now "mom AND me."

At birthday times past, I've written down your milestones, where you are at, what you've accomplished, who you seem to be.

I think the key word to describe you this birthday is "independent."  Yes, I know your independent spirit showed early on with clothing and food choices, etc., and that it will only increase as the years go by, but right now it seems very pronounced to me.  A year ago you were still nursing, still in diapers, still needing an interpreter.    No more.

You're developing your own logic, your own reasons for doing things your way.  You tell Daddy "But I want to argue with you" when he gives you direction.  We can critique your clothing choices to no end, and it doesn't faze you in the least.  You love being with people, but do your own thing, rarely following the crowd.  You don't do things just to please people, though you are empathetic and quick to hug when you see someone is sad or hurt.

You are learning ever so much, faster and faster.  I've stopped trying to rank your academic progress, because it gives me goosebumps.  I know you'll absorb as much information as I give you (on YOUR terms), and the responsibility scares me, though I remind myself that my job is simply to give you the tools, to create a desire in you to learn more and more.  You're on the verge of reading and writing.  And funny that the second word you've voluntarily read and written on your own (the first being your name) is "No."  An emphatic "No."

It seems each day there is less and less that I do for you.  You even insist on saying your own prayers, and how I love hearing you talk to God on your own.  But know that I'll never stop praying for you.  Never.

No matter how independent you become, little heart of mine, God is always watching out for you.  And you will always be tied to me through His love...

Love,

Your Mom
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Interestingly, I got to spend part of Esmé's third birthday in the same hospital room she was born in.  Talk about sweet memories!  Her little second cousin is exactly three years (minus two minutes) younger than her.