Dear Bryce Lee,
I’m writing this letter on the eve of your third birthday. I’ve had the kind of evening where I’m not feeling much like being a parent. You were climbing all over me, being way too rough. You refused to sit in a time out, you refused to use the toilet while at the same time refusing a diaper, and you slammed the bedroom door in my face while shouting, “I don’t like you, Mommy!”
Thankfully, this isn’t how you normally operate, though you do hold a grudge longer than necessary. Nothing I can’t fix with the ole tickle monster.
You are so busy. I love to watch you play, to bounce from place to place, to follow your sisters everywhere. The most wonderful thing you do is lay on the floor and jibber jabber while you play with people or cars or Legos. You make them jump or dive or drive with a little whoosh sound, or an, “Aaaaaah!” I also love how you turn your food into cars and animals that you push all over the table between bites. I love the way you point to Brother Bear in the Berenstain Bears books and say, “That’s me!”
In fact, everything is endearing about you. Your big blue eyes, your curly blonde hair (I’m sorry I cut the curls off; I promise I won’t do that again.), your dimples, your giggle, the way you talk all the time, the way you laugh at yourself, your snuggles, and, yes, your potty mouth. I won’t let you call me Mommy Underwearpants forever, but it makes me laugh so much right now.
You love your sisters dearly, especially Maris, who you follow around like a puppy all the time. You two make up some of the funniest stuff together. Hillary adores you and will do almost anything for you, except change your diapers.
You’ve struggled with growing pains in your legs quite a bit this year, understandably, considering how tall you are. I wish so badly I could take your pain away. I remember having growing pains when I was little. I’m so sorry you have to endure them, too.
I think this is going to be a big year for you. Both of your sisters are going to school in a few days, and I imagine you’ll walk about daycare saying, “Where are my sissers?” for a little while.
I’m sorry I didn’t make you the Spiderman cake you requested for your birthday. Sometimes, I just can’t pull it all together. Maybe next year.
I love you so much, Bryce Sunshine. If you keep smiling and laughing, I’ll be the luckiest person to know you all my life.