Three Year Olds Fly Too

As I was looking through old pictures for the previous post I was beginning to miss my little baby girl, toothless smiles, chunky rolls, unsteady steps, total dependence. I can't understand why people would choose to parent only one child. There just seems to be a natural ache to do it again and again.

Providence, perhaps sensing my melancholy mood, took it upon herself to sing me a lullaby song. The words went something like this:

I love you, I love you so much mama, I do love you, and I know you love me too.

So ok, three is a good age too. They can tell you they love you and really mean it. They can hide under the sheets and tell stories. They can tell jokes; they can make up jokes (which at three, is still funny even if the joke isn't). They can help with chores (of course "help" isn't always the best word to describe what they're doing).

My heart was soothed, my baby may be growing up, but I shall embrace it, look forward to it, enjoy wholeheartedly even. Then this morning after being instructed to use our words kindly, she informed me that she had to do it because she was the "most naughtiest girl." When I explained that naughty girls get lots of instruction...lots, she decided to not be the naughtiest girl, apparently she was under the impression that naughty girls get to watch movies all day.