Thursday, September 26, 2013

They say it's your birthday, we're gonna have a good time

My dearest Josephine, you are now four years old.  

In the last year, so much has changed, and so much of your you-ness has revealed itself so vividly.

You are fiercely independent, wanting to do things by yourself.  Sometimes you are OK with accepting help from Daddy or Zekey or me, but often being offered help pisses you off to no end.  "I CAN DO IT MAMA!  LEAVE ME ALONE!"

A part of that independence is an increasing willingness to just go off and entertain yourself.  I'll find you in your room or sitting on the floor somewhere, coloring or playing with blocks or toys or "reading" a book, all while singing to yourself.

Speaking of reading and singing, you apparently have inherited my ability to quickly memorize almost anything you hear.  So after reading a book to you two or three times, the next time we read, you will recite the book along with me, verbatim.  Same with movies and songs.  You'll recite the dialogue as you watch.  Or be sitting in the car, or in the grocery cart at Target, and suddenly start singing a Katy Perry song at the top of your lungs. It never ceases to amaze or amuse me.

You and your brother love Katy Perry beyond all sense, and want to send her presents and invite her to our house.

Your relationship with your brother continues to be a source of great joy to me.  While you engage in occasional bickering, you really do love each other like crazy, and you're so sweet to each other.  You snuggle together, play together, giggle together, pretend to be mommy and baby, run around at the park, swim, and do everything else together.  You are each other's best friend, and it's wonderful.

You have a great sense of adventure, a great sense of humor, and are a little bit nuts.  Your hair is never brushed, and when we go camping (which you love), by the third day you wander around looking like Central Casting sent over a street urchin from the set of Oliver Twist, complete with scruffy hair, dirty clothes and soot on your face.  You and Zeke like to bounce around on the furniture, jumping from one surface to another, doing flips, wrestling, and knocking each other around, all while giggling maniacally.  You have this hilarious evil laugh that sounds like an extremely gutteral "BAAAAAAAAAAAH hahahahaha!"  If I don't know where you are, all I have to do is follow the laugh.

But you are still my little snuggle bug.  My favorite time of day is when I wake you up for school in the morning, and you wrap your long, gangly limbs around me and bury your face in my shoulder.  We give each other a big squeeze, and then just sit like that for a minute or two.  We also have a new good-bye ritual at school, in which I will put on some lipstick and then kiss you on the backs of your hands, so you have kiss marks to carry with you throughout the day.

You see good in everyone and everything.  You remark on how beautiful people are  ("Mama, you're very beautiful, and so is Mimi"), revealing your own beauty all the more.

 I love you to the moon and back times a million billion plus one, my little monkey.

Love, Mama

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