Two and a Half

If you'd asked me last week what I thought of you being almost two and a half, I would have said it wasn't my favorite age.  We were in the thick of it then, this thing called discipline, particularly with your responses when you didn't get your way:  throwing, hitting, running away.  When prompted, you would tell me that you were sorry, but I wondered if you really meant it, especially when we were right back in the same predicament just twenty minutes later.

But this week something happened, and suddenly you're all about making good choices and saying please when you need something and generally being a content and pleasant child.  Not a perfect child, but a different child.  I can't explain the shift, but I'm grateful for it, for however long it may last.  It's allowed me to stop focusing so much on where you fall short, but instead to see and remember what a delight you are to me at this age.

I love your ever-expanding vocabulary and the sentences that roll off your tongue with such confidence. "Ellie," I say.  "Do you want to take any of your new library books upstairs to read before bedtime?"

"I'm okay with what is already up there," you reply immediately, walking toward the stairs, and your Daddy and I look at each other and laugh.

I love your love of reading, your expanding attention span for longer books.  I love that several times a day you request to "cuddle" on the couch with me and read, that my library card is getting more use than it has since I was a child myself.

I love all the little things we get to do together, just you and I, in these special last few months before Baby Sister makes her appearance:  walks to the playground, ballet class, and craft time.  You love to help me with everything:  putting groceries in the cart, washing dishes, making dinner.  You can't wait to help take care of Baby Sister.

You'll be an amazing big sister I know.  But I treasure these days with just you.  Happy two and a half, my sweet girl.