A Letter To My Daughter On Her Second Birthday
My sweet girl,
Today you are two. You grew up so much this year. You are walking steadier, you can run and jump (almost), and you can pretend you are a cat. You talk in full sentences (LONG sentences), and the way you say sandwich (saammitch) can melt an iceberg.
I’m happy that you haven’t lost your fantastic attitude you had when you were littler. You still know what you want and you get the people around you to do exactly that. Your teacher said the other day that you are “spirited”. And by gully you are. You direct playing sessions, regardless of the number of adults around, and no one has any choice but to follow your lead. I like that you are a leader at heart.
You are also kind. I have seen quite a few preschoolers by now, and you are one of the better sharers, despite being much younger. Having an older brother you have to share everything with might have something to do with it. You take turns, you step aside, and you let him come into your play – and I think you are both better for it. When you play together, my heart is ten times its usual size. And the interactions between you two are priceless. It almost makes up for having a two year old in a house that is just picking up the pieces after the last two year old that went through. Almost.
And speaking of being two, you are a classic one. We are beginning to see the tantrums, the independence, and the frustration. It’s hard when your head is such a long way ahead of your body. And in your case, your body has a lot to catch up on. This is because you are such a smart girl, and such a small one. You get really frustrated when you see your brother climbing up a structure you can’t even reach the first step of. But you grow taller every day, you grow stronger every day, and one day soon you will be able to climb that structure. Hopefully you would eat less then, because I can’t keep going to get groceries every two days.
You are still my snuggly girl, and I love that. I love that you climb on my lap and get me to stroke your back. I love that you like to cuddle and you still snuggle into my neck (although much less now). I love singing to you and combing out your hair after bath, when you lean on me and snuggle despite the fact that you are sitting up on the changing table.
I could go on and on about how wonderful you are, but I promised myself I would limit these letters to 500 words, and I’m running out. Please stay exactly the way you are, minus the tantrums. Please stay the girl I am proud to call my daughter.