to my daughter on her 2nd birthday

Dear sweet baby girl Maria,

I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that it’s impossible for you to be two years old.  It was just minutes ago, after all, that you came flying into the world, in your own way, in your own time, whether or not anybody was around to catch you.  I’m glad I was laying sideways on a bed, instead of on my back, feet in stirrups, with no bed underneath to support you on your way into the outside.

There is something so different in parenting you, my daughter.  I tend to be a softie with you.  Your sweet little grin and sparkly blue eyes make it awfully hard to be as consistent with you as we should.  But I still think you’re turning out ok.

Potty learning is underway and you seem to be catching on.  The princess unders seem to help a bit – you nearly always insist on wearing them instead of a diaper.  You (and I’ll take the risk of jinxing things here by telling the internets) have begun eating nearly everything with gusto.  We measured your height tonight before bed and you’ve grown an inch and a half since March.

Your speech is becoming clearer and clearer.  It’s way more advanced than your brother’s at this age, but I chalk that up to having him chattering away every minute of every day.  You must make yourself understood so that you can hold your own with him.  Fortunately you still seem to get along with each other well.  Sharing a room still works out ok.

 

Darling Maria, I love you so. 
Love,
Mama