Dear Olivia,
Have I told you how much you love drama? I’m pretty sure I have but I think it’s something worth mentioning again. You don’t just love movies, you love to memorize the dialogue and then reenact the scenes in the bathroom mirror or while we’re out running errands. My personal favorite is a particular scene from the movie ‘Tangled’ where you pretend that you’re sweet little Rapunzel stuck in her tower. You choose the perfect time when you know you have an audience and in your saddest little voice you ask, “Momma, why can’t I go outside?” I’m aware that you have now captured the attention of every passerby in the aisle who are suddenly intrigued by the potentially neglected child standing next to me. I loudly ask you if you are reenacting the scene from Rapunzel and you, not wanting to break character will ask me again with a little more sadness in your voice, “Momma, please why can’t I go outside?” You will continue to do this until I finish the scene in my best Mother Gothel voice. Yes, you can catch our live traveling performances weekly at the local Target, Whole Foods and Starbucks.
Your gift of memory is not solely limited to movies – you are very good at memorizing song choruses which can be good or bad, depending on the song. You do listen to a wide variety of music and I have to admit that I have been playing a great deal of ‘Empire of the Sun’ lately. If you don’t remember them by the time you read this, go and look them up – they’re fabulous. Anyways, there is one particular song you like to sing while out in public that definitely catches the attention of strangers. Perhaps it would be ok if they knew you were singing a song but sometimes you sing a chorus over and over and after the twentieth time singing it, you tend to just speak the words. The chorus goes, “I can’t do well if I think you’re going to leave me but I know I try. Are you going to leave me now? Are you going to leave me now?” You can understand that a stranger might be confused hearing a three year old speak these words.
Following along the same lines of drama and memorization of songs, you also find joy in mimicking my actions. If I’m cooking, you want to be right there next to me washing mushrooms. If I’m dusting, you too want a dust rag to help me in the task at hand. I want you to know that I totally abuse this newfound discovery of yours. I know there will come a day when getting you to do chores will be downright impossible. Until then, I will partake in child labor to the fullest extent. Your little hands and small stature are perfect for the jobs I loathe like dusting the staircase rails and getting the hard to reach spots behind the toilet. Yes, you do it all and I couldn’t be more proud.
I had you accompany me recently to the animal shelter where I was donating some of Madeline’s old dog beds and you discovered the wonderment of kittens up for adoption. I did my best to get in and out but being the curious little bugger you are, you turned the corner and voila, I heard you squeal with delight – “MOMMA, THERE ARE KITTIES!!! LOTS OF KITTIES!! I tried for thirty minutes to walk you towards the exit but you had to stop in front of each cat and have a little heart-to-heart with them. You consoled each cat and informed them not to worry, that their new family would come soon to pick them up. It was incredibly gut-wrenching to watch and thankfully you didn’t ask for one or I may have caved. Upon returning home from this trip, your imagination went crazy and now you walk around the house dragging Fritz’s leash saying,”here kitty kitty.” When we take Fritz for walks, you find the biggest stick you can handle and drag it behind you pretending its your pet. You tell me to stop on several occasions to allow your stick to poop. You then inform me that your stick took a big poop and I need to come over and dispose of it. Seriously, I would love to be a stranger witnessing our day-to-day interactions with no back story or explanation to see how we really come off. I’m sure it’s solid gold entertainment.
I’m not sure if all three year olds are as entertaining as you but on most days, I do get a good laugh at just the absurdity that you bring to my life. I enjoy being your Mother even if it causes strangers to judge my parenting ability. I embrace my whack-a-doo parenting style and often partake in activities that are typically frowned upon from more experienced parents. Such activities include teasing and scaring you purposely, dragging you on amusement park rides you have no interest in partaking in and the pure enjoyment I experience when I blame my flatulence on you especially on long car rides. Your Dad knows the infamous outing that involved a stop at the wonderfully delicious Fenton’s Creamery that resulted in me having an intolerance to my ice cream sundae for the hour and a half it took us to get home only to have him believe that you were the one experiencing an intolerance to dairy. Isn’t this the real reason people have children – to blame their gas on their offspring? I can only blame the dog so much and it’s not really effective to blame Fritz when he’s not even in the car. On most days, I don’t mind owning up to my bodily sounds but on this particular day, I felt like some revenge. It may have had something to do with a blueberry picking outing that took place earlier in the day that involved me crouching down amongst the vines in 100 degree heat while trying to collect your urgent bowel movement in a Starbucks oatmeal container. You know, your Father really needs to get involved in some of these parental activities because I’m tired of getting dirty in the trenches and I totally mean that literally. One can really not say life is boring when a preschooler resides in their house and if they do, maybe they need to get to know you. Thank you for making my life meaningful and eventful. I know on most days I come off as a complete fool but thanks to you, I’m now a fool with a clean house.
Love,
Momma
