Proud

My dear sweet Peanut,

I so rarely write to you here. Mostly I write about you. About your funny sayings and loving personality (and sometimes you tantrums).

But, someday, should you stumble across this blog, I want you to know that I am proud of you in case you don't remember me telling you.

Your little sister has been with us for three months. She has commanded much of our attention. But you have been (mostly) patient with all of the changes. Sure, you sometimes steal her nightlight, which used to be yours and you have a new one, and you first had problems sharing your stuffed duck with her. But really, that's the worst of it.

You have been loving, attentive and protective of this new little addition. You sing to her. You tell her stories. If she cries during your story, you ask her what kind of story she would like to hear. If she is crying in another part of the house, you run to her, calling the entire time, "It's OK baby! I'm coming!"

You insist that we all acknowledge her presence. "Talk to her, momma! Say hi! Do patty-cake!"

You really don't like the little boy at the babysitter's who touches your sister's things or your sister. I've even seen you shield her and her things from his prying hands.

I don't think anyone could ask for a better big sister.

Apart from your sister, you are an amazing being. I would love to get inside of your mind to see the world from your point of view.

In your world, princesses reign supreme and mashed potatoes are worthy of thanking God during bedtime prayer. In your world, fairies are real and Santa Claus always comes through with the best presents. In your world, it is a noteworthy fact that poop doesn't have a face.

I love your sweet voice in the morning as you come padding out of your room into ours and stand by the bed, saying "Momma?" your voice lilting upward on the second syllable. I love how you bring all (5) of your pacifiers with you and crawl into bed with me, folding your body so it molds against mine.

I love how you freely give kisses and hugs. How you tell me to have a good day when I leave for work. How sometimes you crawl into my lap, asking to be held like a baby. How you tell me that you want me to be happy and that I am beautiful.

I love how you dance with abandon when Taylor Swift comes on and insist that the rest of us do and how you ask me to sing with you in the car.

You are my sunshine, little Peanut, and my life is better with you in it.

Love,

Momma