Greta Greta Greta. Where can I begin? This has been quite the year for you. You began preschool, learned to write your name, you are sounding out words and you have mastered the art of torturing your brothers. You still adore your baby dolls and Barbies, you still refuse to wear jeans unless I bribe you with candy and you prefer to wear your hair down, every, single, day. Picking out your clothes has become quite labor intensive. It's really a learned skill, and I haven't learned it yet. Ballet and tap class is still one of your favorite events each week. Your recital is coming up and all you can do is talk about it and stare longingly at the costume that you will get to wear that day. Much to your father's chagrin this is something that we will have to continue and pay for. There is no way you are giving this dancing thing up. You are the most graceful little girl in the class and every Friday all the mothers cringe when they watch you do the splits. I really haven't seen anything like it. You can put your legs straight as an arrow and then bend forward and lay your nose on the ground. It's quite excruciating to watch and you get a kick out of everyone's gasps. You are growing up before my eyes. And I can't slow it down, I can't stop it. The thought that my baby is four years old is very hard for me to swallow.
The baby in you is gone. You lost any trace of it this year. You are just a little lady and anxious to live out each day and each year, hoping that it gets you closer and closer to your wedding day. This, we are not encouraging. The whole wedding obsession began a few months ago. You like to stare at our wedding album. When you look at magazines or watch television every picture of any woman in a white dress, you ask if it's their married day. You ask to play with your friends and you're obsessed with babies. You are so good with them and ask to feed them and hold them. You have special toys you bring out whenever a baby is in the house and you are gentle and sweet. And it pains me that you ask me for another baby. A girl baby only however. You are quite discriminatory against males. Your brothers being the few exceptions.
Your curls. That hair. There's nothing more beautiful to me about you physically. We have yet to trim your hair. It's been 4 years. I know. It's probably time. But I can't bring myself to cut the locks you had as a baby. That, and you also are insisting your hair grow down to your knees. You watch me dress and put my makeup on, you watch me pick out my jewelry. You compliment me when you like what I'm wearing. You are very aware of everything I do and are vocal when you agree and disagree with my choices. If I'm wearing my hair in a braid, you must as well. If I'm blowdrying my hair and you're around, you request the same. You get a little mad that you can't fit into my clothes and wear my jewelry but you repeat each time, "mama, when i get older and am a teenager, THEN I get to wear it right?" Nail color choices are also big with you. You are very observant when I have received a pedicure and comment on the color choice. Your own nail color choices have matched alongside mine quite often.
You are smart as a whip. Just like your brothers. I have gladly accepted that daddy and I just make smart people. I for sure thought Sawyer would be the only 3 year old that this house saw reading. But I was wrong. You are following in both of your brothers foot steps and you soak everything up. Just the other day you learned what the word camouflage meant, and immediately used it in a sentence to make sure you understood the context. You do that when we practice your letters. You say the letter, the sound and then a word that begins with that letter. "Y, yuh, yawn. Like mama, I am yawning I'm so tired."
You are my sleeper child. You rarely awake before 8am. And when you do you mosey into my room or bathroom, or wherever I may be and immediately tell me about your dreams. You dream about school and teachers, lions and fairies, Tati is probably the most prominent character in your dreams. And that's pretty accurate since you asked me if you could move in with her a few weeks ago. You told me I can visit you when I miss you. Oh, and you said you could bring Lola. I love your independence and confidence. You don't need me, but you want me around. Well, that's what you think. But you do need me.
You are going to be the glue that holds these two boys together. You already are. You're going to want their approval of any boy that you dare bring home. You are going to be the one to have them over for dinner and call them to check in on them. You are going to be that person. You love your family. You love your brothers. Occasionally you get quite peeved with them and you tell me "mama, you should've just had one boy, then I would only have one brother, not two." You usually go into reverse and change it around right after the words have left your mouth. You couldn't imagine life without either one of them in yours. You are our glue Greta. You are the one that changed our whole family. We love you. Welcome to four. It's going to be quite a ride.