To my sweet bouncy Bee, on her third birthday.

Dear Bee,

Today you are three years old. You are ecstatic and seem incredulous that yes, indeed, you get an entire day for your very own. Ever since the beginning of June when I informed you that your birthday was approaching, you have happily declared, “My birt-day is comin’ up!!” I wish I could capture your beautiful toddlerese, especially the squeeky upswing with which you finish your announcement each and every time. Truly, it’s the most adorable thing in my whole entire world. I may or may not have asked you whose birthday was next just to see your eyes light up and see you dance with excitement.

I hope, I hope, I hope you aren’t so desperately happy because you can’t believe you get to have your own birthday. Sometimes I worry that you feel overshadowed by your big sister. You shadow Gracie’s every move and repeat every word she says. I try not to, but I find myself constantly comparing the two of you in my mind. Not because your sister is a standard I expect you to live up to, but because I love and worry about you so much, Bee. Is your vocabulary where it should be? Should your speech be clearer? Am I giving you enough one-on-one time? Are you too quiet; should you be talking more? So don’t ever wonder: I love you like crazy-cakes, sweet pea. You bring laughter and happiness and oh the surprises into my life every day. Especially the surprises! Your sister is wonderful, but – to me at least – fairly predictable. With you, Sunshine, I never know what will greet me. You are just as likely to squint your eyes and give me a super shiny smile, dazzling me with your cuter-than-cute teeny, tiny toddler teeth as you are to declare, “I a monstore! Rowr! Rowr!” Or perhaps collapse in a puddle of wah on the floor and sob/whine, “Mommy!” until I ask what is wrong. I might sigh at times, but I can’t tell you how much I love the unpredictability you into bring to my life. My world would be quieter, boring, and much too orderly without you.

Because I do love your (ahem) differences. You are stubborn. You are the child who will look me straight in the eyes and tell me to throw the toys away when I lose my cool and threaten to do just that if you don’t pick them up. If I tell you I will only put you to bed three times, you insist on getting up five times. You work that lower lip and pout and ask for all manner of things just because you know you have your older sister (if not your loving, devoted momma) wrapped around your pinky finger. There are many days when I tell you, “It’s a good thing I love you!”

And I do. I love your little quirks, like the way you insist on jumping everywhere. While we were on vacation you and your sister were frequently playing in the other rooms of Grandma’s house with other people and every so often you two would come back to find me just to make sure I was still around. Gracie would run up to me and try to tackle me. You were always only a step behind her and even though I would prepare myself for your crashing hug, you would always take this little hoppity bounce at the end and say, “Hi, Mom!” Then you would bounce away. Literally. You will bounce across a room just for the sheer joy of it. It’s no wonder you asked for a bunny rabbit cake for your birthday because these days, I swear you are half-bunny.

The other hilarious trick you have right now started because of another habit of yours: repeating things over and over and over. I noticed you were pointing to things one day with your middle finger; I told you not to use that finger because that was a bad word. “That a bad fing-gor?” you asked? “Yes, that’s a bad word,” I answered. Now you will randomly come up to me several times a day and flip me off, asking, “That a bad fing-gor?” in your toddlerese. A hundred times we have repeated this conversation in the past two weeks. When we were on vacation, we walked out of Dinand Library on the campus of my alma mater. Right in front of the library is a sculpture of the hand of Christ. “Mommy, there’s a GIANT HAND right there!” Gracie yelled. And because the view from where we were was of the back of the hand, and the fingers were rather splayed, you finished right on cue: “And there’s a BAD FING-GOR!” Oh, how we all cracked up.

Yes, sweet little bouncy Bee – you are my heart, my sweet little baby girl, my shrieking court jester. You keep my on my toes and fill my life with love until my cup runneth over. Happy Birthday, Bee-baby. I hope you have entirely too much fun tomorrow and all the joy you bring to our family is brought back to you a million times over.

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Tags: birthdays, children