Last year we sent Dad off to "the desert" and headed up north to stay with Nana and Papa for three months and during that time we celebrated your third birthday up there with all the grandparents. A week later you were in the pediatric ICU after accidentally swallowing one of Grandma's medications. To date that was the scariest time of my life. But you were fine and made the most of your visit there by requesting popsicle after popsicle from the kind nurses. We made it through the 30 below winter in Minnesota to come back to Omaha in January and enjoy a week with Daddy on his leave from deployment. You and Clare started going back to Tina's for two day's a week so I could get a little break which you were totally on board for as there were mornings you were practically shoving me out her door. In June we waited anxiously at the airport for Daddy's plane to arrive and bring back the man we had missed so much. It took a few months for you to fully accept him back into the fold--I think a big struggle for you was that you felt like you were betraying me in letting yourself enjoy him and allowing him to do many of the little things that only Mom had been doing for the last year. You worked your way through that though and now Daddy is something of a rock star in our home and everyday when he comes home from work and walks through the door you and Clare morph into a cheering squad complete with screams and big jumps. I'm pretty sure your Dad is just as excited to see you too. This was a year of firsts for you; first swimming lessons, dance class and first year of preschool. With each of these events you have blossomed more and more and are growing into your own little person, becoming brave enough to have a voice in the world around you.
I must say that three was much, MUCH better than two. Oh, there were moments (and still are) when every ounce of my self restraint was tested in resisting the urge to lock you in your room for a week, but the difference between two and three was that you wanted to understand so badly the reasons for the limits we put around you and once they sunk in you gladly followed them and usually would preach them to us for a week and also try your hardest to instill them into Clare.
This was the year of discovery in all things pink and princess. Your poor Dad is daily stifling feelings of nauseousness. There isn't a day that goes by in which we don't find you doing some kind of funky fairy dance--which led us to enrolling you in ballet classes. We can't get enough of watching you dance in class. There are curtains over the windows so that the kids aren't distracted by seeing their parents but we found a window outside that we can peek into. It's a bit cold but so worth it. You have a smile on your face the entire class and you do pretty well at following the teacher but every once in a while the dance bug hits you and you break out into your own dance complete with jumps, spins and wiggles.
There is a soft spot in your heart for animals and the major theme to your play at home is gathering various stuffed animals in the house and tucking them into bed. Your self therapy is still acted out here in that one animal is usually struggling in one of the disciplines that you yourself are trying to master at that time. There are never less than three animals that you are taking care of which makes me wonder at the number of kids you will have someday! This play is always done exclusively and a sharp objection is usually issued should someone try to join you.
Your two best friends are still Sara and Abby and it's because of them that we sent you to preschool this year--a year earlier than planned. This will be the only time when you will be in the same class as them and we felt that adapting to school would be much easier for you if you could do it with your friends there. So far this has proven true. Again, your overexcited parents are curious about what you do at school and we're often told "No more questions!" but you seem to be loving school and your teachers. I'm just amazed at how much you've changed in the few months you've been at school and the confidence you've gained from it.
This year for your birthday party you requested, of course, a princess party. So we invited Sara and Abby to go with you to get mini-manicures and then we headed to our house where the dining room had been transformed into a castle complete with a dining table just the perfect size for little princesses. You were beyond excited about the decor, so much so that the minute Sara and Abby arrived you started yelling "Sara! Abby! We have decorations! Come see our decorations!" I had a lot of fun making a castle cake for you and the effort it took was well worth it when you told me it was the best cake EVER.
In one year you have grown into this curious preschooler with definite tastes and preferences. There is a sensitivity about you that surprises us at times. Only the happy parts are watched when we play one of your movies, all the other parts that include hurt feelings, sadness, mean villains or scary sea lions that are trying to catch a cute penguin with dancing feet (name that movie) are skipped. One night I spent a half hour answering your questions of why Mordecai would try to hurt queen Ester and her family after watching the Veggie Tales version of the story. The next half hour was spent reassuring you that there was no such thing as an island of perpetual tickling. To best explain this side of you I have one last story to share and it's by far my favorite. One day we decided to make cookies for Dad to take with him on his hunting trip. As you were on about your third spoonful of cookie dough, I said "Sage, do you know what these cookies are called? Monster cookies." Your whole body froze and a panicked look came over your face. With a convinced voice you told me "No! They are NOT monster cookies. I don't like monster cookies." "Yes Sage," I said, "they are monster cookies and I think you do like them judging by the amount of cookie dough you've eaten." Again she insisted "No, they are not monster cookies...they are happy monster cookies." I chuckled and agreed with you that they must be, in fact, happy monster cookies. Later we were in the car and I was telling the story to your Dad of how the new name of the cookies had come to be and when I finished he asked you "Did you make me happy monster cookies?" You immediately yelled from the back "NO! They are not monster cookies!" Dad said "I know, they're happy monster cookies, right?" to which you replied "No! They are not happy monster cookies...they're Jesus cookies." That's my girl!
