Daddy, this is cute…can we go home now?

Dear Boo Boo Chicken,

I DO NOT want to forget today.  In the midst of your 2.5 year old angst-ridden spring, I want this day to stand out in my mind, and perhaps pray that some of the others in recent history will fade from memory.

One of our many sturdy bean and rice structures.

Today, while Sara was away having fun at school, you and I did not run errands.  We didn’t do any laundry.  We didn’t tie up loose ends.  We did, however, dump 10 pounds of rice and beans onto the foyer floor and make castles with long driveways, bordered by an ocean made entirely of kidney beans.  Then we pulled out every last itsy-bitsy super tiny microscopic piece of Sara’s Calico Critter collection, and played with the all toys you aren’t normally allowed to touch.  I should say “what’s left” of Calico Critters.  I’m fairly certain most of those nano-particles are in my vacuum.

Actual pieces are much smaller than they appear.  That tomato is the size of a microbe in real life.

After a leisurely lunch with Daddy, I rocked you to sleep while singing Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds”.  I can’t remember the last time I rocked you, and quietly singing “Don’t worry…’bout a thing…’cause every little thing…going to be alright”, put me in the loveliest of moods.  When you woke up, you did a little dancing, a little tricycling, a little scooter’ing, and finally, you drove the Barbie Jeep all by yourself.  “By yourself” included me wedged into the seat beside you, my legs propped up over the hood, wildly grabbing the steering wheel as  you aimed for every mailbox on the cul-de-sac, while screaming, “STEER KELLY!  STEER!”, only to have you yell back, “WET ME DO IT MOMMY!  I TAM DO IT!”

Jumping in the Apple Dress that you will not take off, that I think, may have finally seen it’s last leg today.

Throughout the day, you simply could not stop talking about the Peter Pan Ballet.  My hometown Ballet Company where I was a student in my elementary years put on a children’s ballet last Friday night.  You were enraptured, and didn’t move for 90 minutes, except to clap vigorously for each and every scene.  When the tiniest dancers, who don’t really dance but rather were assigned to prance around Tinkerbell, took the stage, they were stunned by the lights.  There they stood, with every single one wearing upside down wings, doing absolutely nothing.  Well, not nothing.  One little girl walked to the front of the stage and picked her nose.  You leaned over to me and whispered, “What dey doing Mommy?  Are dey tinking?”  Um, yes, they are thinking.  A few moments later, as Tinkerbell danced about the tiny fairy statues, you yelled out, “Yes Fairies!  You are still tinking!”

Eye Spy A Kelly.

Around the time Tiger Lilly took the stage, you pulled it all together and realized you were watching Peter Pan, your favorite story.  So, at the top of your lungs you yelled, “Tiger Wiwee!!  HEY!  We hab dat movie in da car!”  When Mr. Smee took the stage, you used your guttural low voice and said, “All hands on deck!’  And finally, near the end, you took off your shoes and decided you were going to storm the stage.  Enough is enough…it was Kelly’s turn to dance.  Grandma and I tried to explain to you that you had to take a class first, but you couldn’t be comforted.  You repeatedly told us, “No, I want to go up on stage NOW.”  And that answers the burning question of which daughter inherited my Thespian gene.  To quote cousin Debbie, “…and so it begins…”, or, in our family…and so it continues.

Watch This Mommy!

You have become our perpetual comedian, making funny faces all day, and demanding, “Hey!  Wook at ma’ funny face!”  Along with my theatre gene, you also got my non-stop chatterbug gene, WHICH I must admit, is a tad more irritating than I had realized.  Nothing like giving birth to my twin for a little self-reflection.  But when I slow down long enough to listen to your 24 hour non-stop monologue, I usually get my biggest laugh of the day.  Yesterday, at our weekly breakfast date at Illinois Food Emporium, you chatted away as you munched on a shortbread cookie.  “Now it is a dress!  (Chomp) Now it is a shirt! (Chomp) Now it is a bathing suit! (Chomp), Ohhhh noooo, now it is only a sock!”

Painting on the driveway SEEMED like fun, until Mommy walked away, and then NOPE…everyone was done.

You enjoy spending most of the day parroting your sister.  If she set the house on fire, you’d grab a torch and get busy a-blazing.  What’s funny is that you’ve never seen your sister decide a class isn’t for her, and yet you have repeatedly done the same, almost instinctively.  We tried gymnastics, which you loved, for about a month, and then just refused to do.  Swim class?  Oh it was great fun in the beginning.  But the last few weeks were nothing but you hanging onto Daddy’s neck, belting out, “I want to go home NOW!” Gymboree was your favorite place, until you made up your mind that no one liked you.  Of course everyone likes you, but I will point out that on Dinosaur day, while the other kids were busy playing with dinosaur puppets, you announced you had an important dental appointment, and had to go, only to return a few minutes later and announce that GOOD NEWS!  You didn’t have any cavities.  Kelly Belle, let me give you a piece of advice that my Grandpa gave me many years ago.  He said, “Lori, you can’t help it that you are human light bulb.  You’re always going to stand out as being different, and that’s OK.  Be who you are.  But you’ve got to learn a bit about blending in from time to time, or you won’t have anyone to go bowling with.”  That was some damn good advice that has served me well.  Don’t underachieve, but seriously, not everybody has be 36 inches tall, 3 years old, addicted to Max & Ruby,  and blonde to be your friend.  Which leaves me with your preschool class, where almost every child is a 36 inch blonde 3 year old.  The 6 of you are in heaven every single Tuesday morning, and the day it ends, you won’t see me in this space.  This Momma will be too full up with tears to write.

Two Peas In A Sister Pod.

You are busy, but not overly distracted.  You are moody, but easily swayed back into giggles.  You are funny, but focused.  Determined, but loving.  You are the lovey to end all cuddly loveys, and of everything I could say about you Chick, I’m just so glad that you’re mine.

With love from your fellow Light Bulb,

Mommy