Three is, like, way harder to do than two.
I took the wild child out for some “I’m three now” photos in the yard.
Gosh, I love her. She loves to tell us stories now, and try to cajole us into doing what she wants by being charming. She will do anything she has learned will get a reaction. Right now her favorite is to say “I frowed up” just to see my head crank around. Jeez.
We had a little family party for her this weekend, and in the tradition of semi-homemade birthday cakes, made this:
We were entirely too pleased with ourselves, but she keeps saying “It’s my birfday! And I had a WATERMELON CAKE!” so she was pleased also.
I love my little family so much.
I’m just not sorry. Heh heh.
only to catch a peripheral glimpse of this:
I moved her lemonade.
She may kill me in my sleep.
I will be praying and drinking my way through this upcoming and final year of my life in which I possess a three year old.
“Genevieve, what do you want for your birthday?”
Immediate answer: “A pony.”
(Dan and I exchange a “we are so dead for the next 15 years” look)
“What THING do you want? We can’t get any more animals.”
G: “new cwothes”
Still a frighteningly girly answer, but I am HAPPY to oblige that request. Haha.
or Mexican wrestling match?
It has essentially been a week of vomit, tears, and Pixar. All of you fellow parents get me.
Wait, there was one thing.
As I yelled to the kids in Payne’s room “Legos in the box, please!” for the twentieth time, Genevieve cheerfully yelled back “Yes Sir! Captain Mommy!”.
I’ll take it.