Dear Chessa,
You have been waiting so long for this day. The day you would turn four and be the same age as Gracie and Emma. The day you would wake up and magically be able to tie your shoes, unbuckle the bottom part of your seatbelt and brush your own hair.
Four was (is) a big deal to you. At first I thought it was cute, this desire of yours to leave the three’s behind you. I teased you that I wouldn’t allow you to turn four or that you were going to have to stay three forever. But then one day, about a month ago, you cried because you so badly wanted to be four and you just weren’t yet. So I stopped teasing you.
It wasn’t about the birthday or the presents, you just wanted to be older, bigger. But, sweet girl. Three was a pretty good age. While you were three you learned to pedal a bike. While you were three you made new friends at school and in our neighborhood. Three brought you a new house and a puppy and countless trips to the beach. At age three you discovered your love of Doc McStuffins and motorized child-sized Jeeps and quads. You took five trips to Pennsylvania and rode on 17 different airplanes. You were daddy’s girl and then mommy’s girl and then daddy’s girl again. At three you started to play with your brother – not just fight over toys but actually play and imagine and create things together.
At three you were stubborn, funny, sweet and a wee bit irrational at times. You could throw a temper tantrum like a champ or run full speed into my legs and wrap me up in a hug. At three we saw a more cautious side of you than before. You stepped away from your fearlessness and became more careful about letting your guard down.
And while sometimes I want to encourage you to Go! Do! Play! I know you will do it at your own time, exactly when you are ready. And until then, your daddy and I will be here to hold you and guide you. I won’t wish for the time that you run away from me, with only a backwards glance, to go play with your friends. Instead I’ll smile and tell you that it’s OK to stay next to us a little while longer, to take your time finding your comfort zone and to go when you’re ready.
You’re a special kid, little one. You have the world at your fingertips and I can’t wait to share year number four with you.
We love you bunches.
