Dear Charlotte,
My spunky, sassy, Mommy’s girl spitfire that keeps us all on
our toes; you’re four! Even though you’re a middle child, I still see you as my
baby … and I think you’re happy to take on that role most days : ) I knew the
minute you were born that you and your older sister would be different, not
only in looks, but in personality; and boy was I right. You challenge me in
ways I didn’t know possible, but love in an even bigger way. We’ll call you a
passionate leader right now … and I just hope that you eventually lead a
company and not a prison gang. Kidding … sort of : )
You are a talker and have a lot to say. Most of it’s true,
some of it’s fabricated, but it’s ALL loud and urgent. You’re still in a phase
where you want to tell me everything, and in great detail, and it can be exhausting.
I keep reminding myself that one day you’ll respond in grunts or not at all and
that I should enjoy this phase, but you have A LOT to say. You prefer we repeat
after you to acknowledge we heard you appropriately and have no tolerance for
abbreviations or misunderstandings. We’re working on interrupting your sister
and other family members, but it’s a slow go because what you want to tell us
apparently needs to be spoken RIGHT NOW.
A lot goes on in your head and you often times have a hard
time getting it out. But you’re smart and cunning, in a sweet way. For example,
if you don’t want to do something, you’ll throw out a line such as “if you make
me try to potty, my pee pees will get very mad and make my stomach hurt” or “washing
my hands makes them frustrated, so I’ll just use sanitizer” or “brushing my
teeth makes them sad.” I know we’re supposed to keep a straight face as we
parent in these situations, but we usually can’t and don’t, and that generally makes you even more upset
or demonstrative about the situation. Your dad is the worst; he cackles like a
little kid … and you really don’t like that : )
You’re creative and smart and tickle us daily with the games
you play, stories you invent, and the names you give your stuffed animals. You
have specific places all of your toys go and an inventory of every knick knack
you’ve collected, sticker you’ve stuck, and picture you’ve drawn; and know
exactly where they should be. The stuffed animals are by far my favorites; your
current fave is Figaro (aka Figs, Figgy) (the cat from Mickey Mouse, a gift
from Anna), Cornfield (Shamu from Sea World), Little Rainbow (a not very little
owl), Turkey (a giraffe), Blueberry (a blue bear), Elsa (a blue cheetah), and Figaro’s
Mom.
You and your sister get along like sisters. There’s a lot of
love, a little bickering, and you know how to push each other’s buttons. You
have a barrage of games you play many time transcending characters and story
lines and I can hardly keep up. You generally play well together and have a
hard time when Anna wants to be alone or do something without you. You love
your baby sister too, but obviously at this time you and Anna have a different and
much closer bond. I never had a sister and with your Uncle being 4 years my
junior, this is all uncharted territory for me.
You love to draw, write your name, and invent stories to go
with each picture your mind creates. Your fine motor skills are amazing for
your age and the ideas you come up with impress everyone. I walked into your
preschool room one day and you were making a book and had also instructed your
friends on folding the paper, gluing the pages, and had asked your teacher to
help you with the text of what you wanted to say on each page. You weren’t even
four! Your sister started bringing home reading homework after the holiday
break and any evening that she had homework, you insisted on joining in, so I
made up worksheets for you; you sat beside Anna and plugged away.
You’re very even keel and everyone’s friend at school,
usually avoiding conflict or trouble. Last summer you were in a small preschool
room and wound up being the only girl in class. The director approached your
Dad and I, worried we’d be concerned with the gender ratio, but in talking to
your teachers, they knew you’d be fine; and you were. You now know more about
super heroes than I could ever teach you and are one of the boys many times in
class and on the playground.
You took FOR-EVER to potty train this last year and have a
bladder of steel. We tried a few times with the same method we used with Anna
and you simply refused and held your bladder all day. So we waited a few weeks
and would try again. Eventually you gave in about 5 weeks before I was due to
deliver your baby sister and I’ll never forget the “joy” of sitting with you in
the powder room, on a stool, a million months pregnant, swollen and achy,
listening to you play the Elmo potty game on your iPad and hearing the sound of
pee in the toilet. You took to peeing eventually, but pooping was another story
and you reserved that for your pull-up at naptime or nighttime; never having a
poop accident at school or outside of our house; but oh-so-many in your room. I
will admit I cried about that many nights and thought we’d send you off to
college in poopy pull-ups. But true to how you do everything, the flip switched
for you one day as you turned four and you were done with that; and have since
gone on the potty religiously.
You are your own person, Charlotte Rose, and you remind us
of that daily, usually in good ways. You have the best smile, give the best
hugs, and love so so so so passionately it’s easy to forget the tantrums that
come with them. You can cry on a dime, but forgive just as quickly as you got
mad or upset. Although your independence
and the fire inside of you can be exhausting, I hope you never lose it. You’re
destined to big things, little girl, and I want to be there for you each step
of the way.
Love,
Mom
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