Dear Luciya,
Happy first day of Fall!
As we all know, I'm nutty crazy about Autumn. It makes me want to fling my fat-bellied self out into the crisp mornings and sing about the corn being as high as an elephant's eye. Which is an improvement over recent morning attitudes. So, let us take a moment to give homage to Autumn and its promise of lovely days ahead.
This summer was fun and hot and busy and full. The last two weeks of July, you took swimming lessons with your friend Eliza, and to this day, two months later, it's much of what you want to talk about. "I go kick kick kick. I blow bubbles, Moooooooo. I splash splash splash. Go swimming lessons? Go see Eliza? Need put on suit." You absolutely loved swimming lessons, and you learned a ton. By the end you could hold your head under water for five whole seconds as you kicked and pedaled to me, and Miss Amber, the instructor, said that if she didn't know better she'd have thought you'd been in the water since you were six months old. You get that from you dada, kid. Let's run with it.
Your hair is long and lovely, and I'm dedicated to getting your bangs grown out. I've come super close to just chopping them again, but I've held strong and I think it's going to be worth it in the end. Your hair is down to your shoulder blades, with beautiful ringlets at the very end. It does get in your face, and you do take out your ponies and clips, but for now, it's here to stay.
I can't believe what a big girl you are. We are having so much fun! (Okay, for the most part. You are also quite the "spirited child," and can be unbelievable ornery and argumentative and spicy and berserk. But your loviness and willingness to hug, and cute toothed smile almost always make up for it). It has just been such a joy to move from baby to little girl, and to be able to have small conversations with you, and have little mother-daughter dates, and to leave you comfortably to your own toys and games for minutes at a time.
Swimming lessons, a Stroller Strides water class, and hot, hot weather turned you into quite the water baby this summer. You love all things wet and wild. Emphasis on wild, since you are...
you.
This summer has also seen you turn into Jabbertalky McGee. Talk and talk and talk. It's so stinkin' cute and adorable and heart-wrenching. You have the sweetest little voice ever. For the most part, everything you say is fairly easily discernible... at least to me. We went out to check the mail yesterday, and our neighbor was checking her mail, too. You wanted to talk to her, so I had to translate the following fascinating information: "I just wake up. I wear animal jammies! I had a little poop." Good stuff.
Like I said, for the most part you're pretty easy to understand. But then there are the few words that I simply cannot decipher, and there are the words that are simply hilariously pronounced. Smoothie = "fa-movie." And Popsicle? Well:
[Video embedding isn't working right now; see it here.]
Your big sister Eryn was here for a couple weeks in August, and you still talk about riding on the paddle boats with her. Eryn is doing great in COLLEGE HOLY COW, and working very hard at McDonald's. Keep it up, Eryn! You're amazing!
This summer has been the summer of HUGE, GIGANTIC accomplishments. We started potty training the weekend you turned 27 months old, so that means it's been just over two months since you've worn diapers outside the bed. We've had a couple accidents, one in the stroller and 3 or four while camping over labor day, but over all it's been a natural, normal progression. Then, less than a month later, we tossed the binky. We'd been using it only in the crib for naps and bedtime, and on August 14th I looked at it, torn and shredded as it was, and asked you, "Can we throw this in the garbage?" And you nodded, and helped me toss it. And that was the end of that. No more nuks nuks. Done. Gone. Not another word about it. Pretty amazing, really, since I couldn't imagine you falling asleep without on for more than two years.
Now, we're working on the Big Girl Bed. Great Grammy had a double bed in her old house that she no longer needs since she's living a couple blocks away at Spring Creek, so we took it, got some bed rails and bright new bedding, and went for it. This week, you've slept in it at night four times. Two of those nights have gone surprisingly well, and two of those nights I've had to let my heart fall out my eyes a couple times to let you cry it out. I always end up going back in, and lying with you because I don't want this transition to be a traumatic one. But it's a transition that had to happen, because a couple weeks ago you figured out how to fling yourself out of your crib, and then fling yourself over the gate to your room, and then fling yourself all over the house. You are a tenacious one, Luciya. You are one tenacious little monkey.
And naps have therefore proven impossible in the big girl bed, because it's daylight and you have free range of your whole, entire room! So, in utter napless frustration after 4 days without a nap, I huffed to the Baby Depot and bought a tent for the crib, which is now in the baby's room, and that's where you're sleeping as we speak. In your tented crib. In the baby's room.
Baby steps. And overall, I consider you to be a summer wonder child, since you have officially accomplished all three big girl steps I wanted to see you accomplish before Baby's arrival: potty trained, binky-less, and in a big girl bed. Unbelievable. You make a mama proud.
And here you are just chatting away with me. I love when you start singing your ABCs: "A-B-C-D-E-F-D-enda, enda, A-B-C-D-E-F-D..."
[See video here]
You rock my world, kid. Here's to many, many more delightful summers.
I love you, Luciya!
Love,
Mama
Your daddy calls this the "Grandma Ruby" face.
