Dear Avacakes,

Today isn’t your birthday, your half birthday or anything of the sort. However, I just felt the need to write you this letter today. You see, you are growing up and changing so fast it is hard to keep up with all that you do. I want to freeze time and I want every silly thing you do to be ingrained in my memory forever.

Last night I bought you a potty chair. It completely freaked me out. It is such a huge step forward in independence for you. I know in 15 years you will read this and your eyes will roll into the back of your head as you say “Mom!” But right now, you are still my sweet baby girl. The sweet girl who puckers her lips with a goofy half grin when asked for a kiss. You willingly come over and throw your arms around me when I ask you for a hug. Once in a great while you will do those things without prompting. And when you do? Oh, how you melt my heart.

I love the nightly routine we have somehow fallen into. We get home from Gramma’s house and fix (or unwrap) dinner. We all sit at the table, you in your big girl booster seat. At least two dozen times during dinner I will have to stop and clean your hands. Which, ahem, would not get so dirty if you would consent to using a fork or spoon a bit more often. Also, not content to drink from your own cup, Daddy will have to share his cup of water with you, him holding while you take a few gulps, sometimes ending up with an ice cube to the face in your exuberance to tip the cup back. You also find the food on my plate far more interesting that what is on your own, even when it’s the same thing.

Eventually, though, we do get done with mealtime. If it’s bath night, generally speaking, you have already taken that bath while Mommy made dinner. I enjoy the sounds of laughter and splashing as I race around the kitchen. After dinner is jammy time. You head to Mommy and Daddy’s room, where you slip into warm, soft jammies. That task completed, it’s time for the final activity of the night; a cuddle on the bed with Mommy and Daddy, with your two best blankets, of course. We settle in and watch a few minutes of your current favorite show, Caillou. You rock back and forth to the theme song, flinging your arms out wide at the end, just like Caillou does. Then you settle back, cuddled against your parent of choice for the evening and watch one story. When it’s over, we turn the television off and you grasp your blankets tightly and head down the hall to your room. You know it is night- night time. One of us picks you and cradles you in our arms. We both kiss you, whisper softly to you, instructing you to have a good night and only pleasant dreams. Sometimes I sing “You Are My Sunshine”, depending on your readiness for your bed. We put you in your crib, turn down the light and say one last “I love you” as we close your door.

Most nights you fall asleep rather quickly. All we hear is a few rustles through the monitor as you get comfortable. Some nights we hear Ava-speak. Bababa. Dadada. Yeaaaaaaah. Hiiiiiiiiii! It doesn’t last long. Soon you are sound asleep; the only sounds to be heard are the soft breaths you take.

That is a typical evening with you, Avacakes. Of course I left out the tantrum you had because you didn’t get your hand cleaned quickly enough. I didn’t mention the meltdown that ensued because I wouldn’t let you empty the fridge door shelves. I never even think about how mad you get when I won’t turn on the Veevee (TV) until after dinner. And honestly? All those things are ok. They are all part of this journey you are on. I feel so blessed to be along for it. But please don’t grow up too fast. Your mommy needs so many more hugs and kisses.

Love,

Mommy