May 6, 2010
Two years ago, you came into our lives, our Lucky Penny, our golden child. I've never told you this before, but it took a lot longer for you to get here than we thought it would. Someday I will tell you the whole story, but ultimately, things didn't work out the way we expected (twice), and I had to learn how to cope when things didn't go my way. But now you're here, and you've made me so happy, I don't think about all of those sad days I had before you came along. The third time really was the charm, and my luck has changed.
It's hard to believe that just a year ago, you weren't quite walking yet. Now you zoom around. You can gallop! A year ago, you were still eating mostly mushy food, and now you can devour a good part of a rotisserie chicken on your own. A year ago, you only had a couple of words, and now you can say, "Look mommy, I have a new dress on!" You had a haircut the other day, and you told the woman you wanted to watch Elmo's World while she cut your hair, and you asked for an orange balloon when you were done.
In no particular order, your favorite things are coloring with markers, dancing, swinging on swings, digging in the garden and watering the plants with your watering can, taking care of your baby doll, and eating chocolate cake. You have a burgeoning interest in dressing up, with bracelets and sunglasses and you like to wear scarves as fancy skirts. You are really into Fancy Nancy right now, and I'm apprehensive of having a princess-diva-movie-star-child, but I went through a princess phase when I was little, and I still turned out (more or less) ok.
You're getting better at sharing and we're working on taking turns and not grabbing things from our friends. You have a surprising amount of empathy for others, and if someone is upset, you tilt your head, furrow your brow, and earnestly say, "Oh, it's ok," while giving them a reassuring pat on the shoulder. You also get embarrassed easily, a trait you probably inherited from me. If you fall or do something silly, like accidentally walk into a wall, you check to see if anyone saw you, and then you get mad. Trust me, I feel that way a lot.
You have a brand new baby cousin, and "He cute!" as you would say. Watching him sleep and cry and nurse and sleep all over again, reminds me of how tiny you once were and how little I knew. I remember wishing you could just tell me what you needed and wanting so badly to do everything right. I remember being amazed that people intentionally choose to have subsequent children. Now you can tell me exactly what you need, and I don't worry quite so much. We're getting pretty good at this stuff.
Penny, you are my little friend. I miss you when I'm away, and I melt when I come home, and you wrap your arms around my neck and say, "I miss you, Mama." I still check on you at night, before I go to sleep, to make sure your blanket isn't tangled and that you aren't jammed into the corner of your bed. When I see your sweet sleeping face in the dim light of your room, I have to resist waking you with a barrage of kisses. You will always be my baby.