The terrible twos are called terrible because suddenly your sweet bundle of joy develops an opinion.
Three is just as bad because not only do they still have the opinions, they also suddenly have the desire to do things ALL! BY! THEMSELVES!
Then there’s four (almost five.) Complete with the opinion plus desire to do things ALL! BY! THEMSELVES! only now having the ability to actually start doing things ALL! BY! THEMSELVES! comes into play.
the moosh can do so much.
Calling her the moosh seems so juvenile compared to the real person that spends her days with me. In the past week I have had to get her bigger clothes, no longer can I shop in the toddler section. 5T is a thing of the past. Her feet grew two sizes over the summer which meant bigger shoes and bigger socks. We had to get her a bigger bike, her knees were hitting the handlebars of her old one. She barely fits in her toddler bed. We even had to get her bigger underpants, she’s been without diapers for almost two years.
She’s starting to read. She can write “I love you mom and dad.” She knows what prosciutto is. She knows how to make toast and how to frost a cupcake. She can brush her own teeth and sings along to Hannah Montana. She knows the difference between dark and milk chocolate. Her head comes up to my chest. She no longer fits in shopping carts. She can swing in the big swings all by herself. Last week she washed her own hair during her bath.
She hasn’t fallen asleep in my arms in almost two years.
She has 16 freckles besides the dozens sprinkling her nose.
Her name is Mary Adelaide and she is named after my grandma.
Everyone who loves her dearly (and there’s hundreds) just call her Addie.
There’s nothing baby about my baby anymore.
Except that she will always be my baby.