For My Beautiful Emmy, on Your Second Birthday:

Oh, Em. I can’t believe you are already turning two years old. It really does seem like just a few days ago, Dada and I were bringing you home from the hospital, all bundled up and looking like a very teeny tiny confused pilot, tucked inside your car seat.

Your birth changed our lives in the most unbelievable ways. Sure, Dada and I haven’t exactly gotten LOTS of sleep the past two years, and maybe our family dinners aren’t always the most relaxing meals, but these are small sacrifices, and totally worth the trade-in for the enormous joy you have brought to our family.

I imagine that some years from now, you might be curious as to  what kind of a child you were as a two year old, so I am going to try my best to tell you a little bit about the beautiful girl you have become.

First of all, you absolutely adore music. You love singing. You love dancing. When you wake up in the morning, you want to watch videos of your favorite songs, like “Rain Rain Go Away” and “I’m a Little Teapot”. You often ask us to join you in dancing around the living room along with you and Elmo. You want to listen to “On top of Spaghetti” eight times on our ride to and from daycare.  I love watching you through the rearview mirror, mouthing the words and bopping your head to the music. Music is in your blood, it is part of who you are.

You have an incredible vocabulary for a two year old. Dada and I are constantly amazed by the words that come out of your mouth, and your ability to communicate your thoughts, your needs, and your feelings with us. It really is astounding. We don’t know how you’ve developed your language skills so quickly, since we never really “pushed” words on you, but you make us very proud, with your little voice and big words.

You are very curious. Your most often repeated sentence is “What happened??” You also say the word “again!!” an awful lot.

You have a few fears, which is to be expected. You don’t seem to like monsters much, or the little holes in between the tiles just above the bathtub. You don’t like going into a dark room by yourself. But you have no fear of doggies or other animals. When we’ve visited farms, you have enthusiastically tried to feed and make friends with the goats, the cows, and the chickens. And even when, just recently, a little baby piggy bit your finger when you were trying to feed him, you were upset, but after a short break you went right back to petting the piggy.

You love “big girl” bath time, where you can pretend to swim around in the water with all of your bath time friends. You love splashing the water so that mama and dada (and the bathroom floor) get wet. And you love lining up your rubber duckies on the edge of the bathtub, so they can all sing “happy birthday” together.

You hate having your feet covered when you are sleeping. I try to bundle you up at night, to make sure you stay nice and warm, but within minutes of covering you with a blanket, you squirm your little feet out from under the blanket. I remember doing the same thing when I was a little girl.

At school, it seems you like to hang out by your teachers, observing your classmates as they play with their toys. We are not sure if you are just shy around other kids, or slightly overwhelmed… but your teachers love you and are happy to stay by your side, which seems to make you happy.

At Baba’s house, you like to create beautiful works of art using magic markers and stickers. You like putting the stickers on the paper, then drawing over the stickers, and then drawing lines between the stickers, making them “friends”.

And my favorite thing of all… when you are falling asleep at night, after I have sung you lullabies, you ask to hold my hand while I sit in the rocker right next to your bed. And after a while of squirming, and many sips of water, and whispered conversations between you and your tiger puppet, you fall asleep, with your fingers wrapped around mine.

I love you with all my heart, Emmy. I am such a proud mama, and can’t thank you enough for being such a wonderful daughter.

Love,

Mama