Let’s take a break from all this sad stuff, shall we?
Because this girly girl turned 3 last week!
Kate kept asking, “Where is my birthday?”
We celebrated as best we could, and were glad to have Grandad and Nanna come for the weekend.
This girl is one of a kind, let me tell you. She keeps us on our toes, to put it mildly. She has a spark in her eyes, a spring in her step, and something brewing in her brain constantly.
When my parents were here in September, they stayed in a camper in our backyard. Kate liked to take her afternoon naps with them in the camper. But she’d wait until my parents were napping and then would get into mischief. The first day she found a mousetrap and figured out how it worked (by that I mean she caught her own finger in it). The next day she successfully unlocked Grandad’s cell phone and proceeded to call 911.
I did manage to potty train the poor girl. Cold turkey. No diapers, no pull-ups allowed. I know everyone says that when they’re ready they’ll do it on their own . . . I just didn’t believe it. It’s true, though. I don’t even have to remind her to go and we haven’t had an accident in days.
Kate misses her sister desperately. The other night she woke up sick. I got her situated on the floor beside my bed and she started crying. “I want a toy,” she said. I went against my better judgment and asked her what toy she could possibly want at 2 a.m. after puking. “A rattle,” she said. “Annie’s rattle.” And I realized that she missed her sister. As my heart broke in two, I gave her Annie’s rattle, along with Annie’s baby doll the kids had named Peanut. Now Kate is not a doll-kind-of-girl. She does not need a lovey to go to sleep. She’ll play with her stuffed kitty or a baby doll every once in a while, but has never been glued to anything. Until ‘Peanut and Rattle’. Rarely is she without them. In the middle of the night, I’ll hear her shaking the rattle. “When will Jesus be done with Annie?” she’ll ask me. Tell me, how do you explain that to a three year old?
But this was supposed to be a happy post.
One last story. Kate loves band-aids. Especially princess ones. She is so accident prone, she really truly needs one most days. But some days she’ll see a miniscule scratch and start screaming for a band-aid. “Snoooow White. I neeeedddd a Snoooow White band-aid. I’m bllllleeeeeeding!!!!” she’ll cry. I’ll bring her a band aid and ask her where her scratch is. She’ll proceed to check each finger carefully. “This one. Nope. Uh, this one, I think.” Eventually, she’ll find it. So dramatic.
And the real reason Kate has bangs? Every time I cut her hair, I contemplate growing them out. But inevitably there is a big bruise on her forehead.
Oh, Kate Lillian, how could we love you more!? You make our lives so colorful!
** Thanks to our friend, Crawford Ifland for the amazing photos! We love you, Crawford!