AV mode. Aperture: f/4. Shutter speed: 1/800. ISO 100. Canon EF 24-105 mm lens. Canon T3i.
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Today is your third birthday. I should have written letters on your first and second birthdays, but as you will soon learn, I can be a bit of a procrastinator.
There hasn’t been a day in the last three years that I haven’t said a prayer of thanks for you. You make me laugh, often when you don’t mean to. Your giggle is infectious and your ability to learn slightly inappropriate phrases, like, ‘you’re wee-diculuous’ is astonishing.
You hate to have your hair brushed, and demand that I am gentle when I try.
Every morning, Daddy lets you make your own cream of wheat cereal. You try very hard not to spill the package on the counter.
Your favourite book is Red Riding Hood, but you usually make me stop reading before the wolf eats Granny. Beauty and the Beast is your favourite movie. I like to watch you watch it because I can see that you are trying to memorize the songs.
Whenever you take something you shouldn’t have, you reply, “I’m just borrowing with it.” No, that’s not a typo. You say, “borrowing with it.”
A few times a week, you wake up in the middle of the night and I let you crawl into bed with me. I secretly don’t mind because the smell of your hair is intoxicating.
When asked what you wanted for your birthday, you replied, “A purple pencil.” For weeks, you have been telling us, “I’m two, but then I’ll be three, then it ‘ll be Christ-a-mas.” This week, you tried to convince your daycare teachers that you were turning seven. I don’t think they bought it.
You love the iPad and Disney Junior. Your evening TV schedule involves watching Mickey Mouse, then Doc McStuffins, then bedtime. When it’s jammie-time, your brother helps you hide so Daddy can’t find you. You would have better luck hiding if you didn’t answer his calls with, “I’m in the closet.”
There are few better feelings in life than your arms wrapped around my neck, hugging me as tight as you can.
Sometimes when you are extra tired, I hold you like a baby, just so I can remember what it’s like to feel the weight of you cradled in my arms.
I tell you everyday that you’re my girl, and you respond, “you’re my girl, too.” That sums it up. You are mine and I am yours. Forever and ever.
Happy birthday, my sweet girl. Mama loves you.