Happy birthday, middle one. Today is Penn's birthday - the last in our hectic parade of winter birthdays and I am honouring the sweetness we call Penn. She was a scheduled c-section that decided to come early. She was THE SWEETEST, QUIETEST, CALMEST baby. So much so that I forgot her places more time than I should admit. The flip side of the baby sweetness is that she's now our bravest, wildest, funniest child. She's got the comedic genius of Tina Fey, the sweet face of Pippa Middleton, and the daring of Evil Kenevil. She's dangerous. She's clumsy like you would not believe. She's also the first one to give hugs, to say sorry, to need a lift, to share her stuff, to clean up, and to spread the love. She fascinates me in that magical way that makes you want to always be around her. LOVE.
Dear Penn,
You're three years old today. That's a miracle. That means you've been keeping us on our toes for over a thousand days. And I am so glad. You know what I love about you? You're your own person. I love how you style your day with tutus and princess-phenalia just so that you can throw on rubber boots and jump off the couch or make up super dangerous games like hopping from bar stool to bar stool on one foot. You ask for what you want. You go about your business. You are like no other kid I've met and now that your words and manners are amazing - you've totally stopped hitting people. That's awesome.
This year was huge for you. You talk!! You move! You have really become a little person and can do everything yourself. You rock. You do everything in your own time. Of your own will. YOu build playdough like a rockstar.
Just a note: You fell off the couch a month ago exactly and it was the scariest moment of my life to see your little body tied on to a stretcher surrounded by guys in uniforms. You made my heart stop. You made me bargain with the Universe. You made me want to trade my own space here if that meant you'd be okay. Don't do that again because it was heartwrenching and terrifying. I can't imagine our family without you so as much as it prides me to see your brave little heart. Please, please, please be more cautious when it comes to jumping on the couch. Or off the couch. Or off the stairs. Or the sled. Or the benches. Or the swing. Or the deck. Or the bed. Or the car. Or the piles of teetering books. Please. I desperately need you strong + healthy + here so I can see what your life unfolds to be... because little girl - you amaze the heck out of me and I can't miss a minute.
Love you long time, Penny.
Love, Mama.
Today: we're heading out on the ocean to find some mermaids, dolphins and starfish to invite to Penny's very outrageous party. Pirates need not apply. Adventure ahoy!
GO!
