Yes, my little baby is 4 years old. She's always seemed a little mature for her age, teaching me and John to mind our manners (no elbows on the table, don't chew with your mouth full, that sort of stuff) and using the big potty, and putting her dishes in the sink after dinner. I think I really lucked out with how sweet and special she is.
Jake is special and sweet too but in a messy, full speed ahead kind of way. Love him to bits too!
But they both need to take some responsibility for their actions yesterday. Or at least I need to be able to print this out and give it to them when they're teens and asking me for money. Or for a ride. Or for a car. Because then I'll point to this letter, posted neatly on the wall, under glass, along with the other "letters from mommy," and I'll raise my eyebrows and tilt my head. That should say it all.
Mommy is so proud of you and how much you've grown in the last year. I look at pictures and see your little "baby face" looking back at me. Now you're so much bigger, the baby face has slimmed out and you've grown taller, so tall that you can get into the things mommy and daddy hide from you, er, um, I mean, set on the counter to "keep out of your way".
I'm proud of your independance and your stubborn streak. I'm proud of the way you want to help mommy with Jake and the way you keep an eye on him when I leave the room and the way you tell me when he's getting into something "dangerous", which he usually is.
But please don't put my real silverware in your bag of toys. I don't want to have to start counting that stuff to make sure I have it all.
You are wonderful and you are special, and I am very lucky to be your mommy.
Love you sweetie,
If you don't stop banging your hands on stuff (namely the mirror above our couch that you've added a collection of prints lovingly and LOUDLY made with your own two hands) and pulling things apart (namely the drawer front to one of our kitchen cabinets), we're going to start calling you BamBam and dressing you in animal prints (not actual fur because that would be too warm in the summer and probably wouldn't machine wash well). Please be more careful.
Oh, and please tell your sister that just because something is a *tiny* bit broken, she does not need to rip it apart and shred it into tiny pieces. Our bathroom blinds are supposed to cover the whole window and it's not really doing the job when one of the slats has been removed. Then ripped up and left on the floor.
Dear Makers of those shakey things you're supposed to mix salad dressing in,
I'll start by saying that my dressing shaker was one of my favorite things during my son's first year. I used it constantly for mixing formula for a seemingly never-ending line of bottles and thought I could put it to use again to prep last nights dinner.
Ahem. Now for my problem.
You should warn people that shaking warm liquids (arg, this brings back memories of what I like to call "the gravy incident") or, for example, pancake batter, in the shaker does not work well. Either that or mine has broken because just last night I was using it to shake up some pancake batter and the thing hiccupped... and then barfed... batter all. over.
All over me, all over the kitchen floor and counters, and all over a very surprised little boy. I'll call him BamBam.
It was only slightly hillarious.
Cleaning up puddles of batter? Not so much.
So, I'm writing to tell you that you should really add some kind of warning stating that one should not use it for mixing warm liquids (ahem, gravy for example), or pancake batter, and if you could do this, my letter might have saved another from the same fate I suffered. Twice.
Thank you for such a helpful invention!
A Messy Mommy