Your third year was your best yet. Life felt settled. We loved our new home and you thrived in preschool. At some point, and I’m not sure when it was, your personality exploded. And I mean exploded. You are full of life, full of energy.
You were every bit of a two-year-old and then some. You can throw some of the biggest fits I’ve ever seen (or can imagine). You can play, dance, and sing in your crib for hours before falling asleep. You are dramatic and emotional. You have a definite sense of style; you love to dress-up. You have a great imagination, and a sense of humor too. You say the funniest, and sometimes most unbelievable, things. I write it all down so you can read it one day. You are curious and stubborn. And you are very strong-willed. You know what you want, and you know how to get it. You amaze us every day, in good ways and in not-so-good ways. You are smart. So smart it is scary sometimes.
You are the most social kid I know. You’ve never met a stranger, and you never forget a name (a skill I wish would rub off on me). In fact, when I can’t remember who someone is, I just ask you! You love to make friends, and friends to you means everyone from the employee stocking the shelves at Wal-Mart, to the ladies at church, to another kid at the park.
You are a loving, caring child. You love to love and be loved. You have a kind heart. You are a daddy’s girl but reserve a special place for me. You are a great big sister, always looking out for Joseph and taking care of him, introducing him to people you meet, “This is my little brother, Joseph.” He is lucky to have you. I hope you are always so close.
A few weeks ago, I came into your room after you woke up from your nap. I got you out of the crib and put on your big-girl panties. I pulled your hair back in a ponytail, and you asked to wear your crown. I picked you up so you could see in the mirror. As I watched the sweetest smile appear on your face, I had a heart-wrenching feeling and a sudden, very unexpected thought. I imagined you on your wedding day, me standing behind you in your dress, as you look at yourself in the mirror.
I know that day will be here way too soon. I know that the day you go to kindergarten will be here way too soon. Each day with you is precious – not always a walk in the park, but precious nonetheless.
Thank you for three amazing years – the best of my life. I love you forever.
Loved. I write Jackson a letter every couple months too. She will love reading this later:)
Beautifully written. Trudie's right – she will love to read this one day. You are a great mother and she is a lucky girl to have your love, your stubbornness, your creativity, your passion (not to mention your fashion style) as a huge part of her life. And I am such a blessed Meme to have you both! (and please let's hope that wedding day is at least 30 years away!)
Just beautiful. Happy 3 years, sweet Hannah.
Uhh Tears!!! You are such a great writer, person, mom, all of the above. Love this letter!!