Wow. I knew before I sat down to write this that it had been a long time since I'd written a monthly letter to you, but I didn't realize it had been since December. How time flies when you're having fun, I suppose. We continue cruising through our easiest days to date, which make me grateful. Often, after a day spent with you, I am exhausted. But after tucking you in at night, both your dad and I always smile and note that we have incredible kids. Lucky parents, we are.
As it turns out, you may have been right when you announced you didn't need my help in the pool. The following Saturday, you figured out how to back float the length of the kids' pool. Your Grandpa Rodney wondered how it was possible that you could float, given your lack of fat on your body. I have a suspicion it's because you're largely full of hot air.
You can balance on your skis quite well, and try very hard to put them in a strong "v" shape as you go down the mountain. I predict next year will be a good ski year for you. Although you might well prefer to keep Grandma Carlene and Grandpa Rodney company back at the condo.
Your vocabulary grows richer each day. I sometimes forget how extraordinary it is, and then someone will mention it to me. You and Connor took a joint swim lesson, and your teacher must have come over to me on four separate occasions to remark how incredible your vocabulary was. Of course, I don't like to mention this in front of you, so I kept nodding in a somewhat non-committal way and finally she said "look - really - I'm with a lot of kids. She is incredible. I almost can't believe she's only three!"
Friday is quite definitely the highlight of your week. It's the day we go to class together at Potomac Crescent. You have a friend in class that you often hang out with on Thursdays. You think he's just the best - and he is the nicest person in class. You are the only girl in your class at this point, but as one parent remarked to me - if anyone can handle being in a group of only boys, it's Helen. And indeed, you make your way although you do tend to play differently than the boys.
You've been performing puppet shows up a storm. You have an abridged version of "The Hungry Cat" which makes me almost laugh every time. In Waldorf schools, teachers often talk about the 3 Rs "Reverence, Rhythm, and Repetition". You completely groove on the fact that the weekly puppet show is performed three consecutive weeks. On the second week of any particular show, you will recognize it and turn around with delight to announce it to the row of parents watching the show. Of course, you're a little bit thrown when the show changes, but you sit absolutely soaking up every word.
Just like your dad, you enjoy grilling - even if there's snow on the ground. You also still love cats, babies, and anything that's pink. Having your nails done is a favorite pasttime, and you're happy to paint anyone's nails who allows it.
Clearly, you were put on earth to make me completely insane. The thing driving me most nuts these days is all the "what ifs". For example, if I announce something is going to take place, you instantly start asking "but what if" and make up somewhat reasonable scenarios that would result in the intended action not happening. Most of the time, I just want to shout "I'm not going to discuss it with you, Helen, it's just going to happen!" I realize that you're developing critical thinking skills that will serve you well later, but seriously, it makes me want to never tell you anything and as soon as anything escapes my lips, I want to bang my head against the wall. It's OK. I deserve it. I did the same to my mother. I can hang, if only because you still tell me (and many other people) often "you're my best friend".
I love you, Helen. You're a dream come true.
Love,
Mommy
Oh, "a dream come true" made me tear. What a lovely, lovely sentiment.
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