Kyra, Jaiden, and Jordan thought you were pretty hot shit when you were born. It quickly became apparent that you had them wound almost as tightly around your finger as you did Daddy and me.
Tomorrow you'll be three, and as much I as I would love to have you not run around smelling like a heap of hot trash once a day, I'm not all that upset that you still crap your pants you've stubbornly decided to continue using Pull-Ups, because that's the last thing that has you tethered to babyhood. You say you don't want to be a big girl, which is just fine by me because I don't know that I'm all that ready for you to not "officially" be a baby anymore.
I thought I was going to sit here and write about how much you've changed. I described your personality back in January when I started this blog. As I read that post, I realized that for the most part, you're the same Kaelyn you were back then, only your synapses have quite a few new connections (you can identify most letters of the alphabet and you know that if you were old enough, you'd vote for Barack Obama even though you pronounce his name Barack Yo' Mama) and you're a whole helluva lot louder (not entirely to my disbelief):
– aka the Youngest – in the throes of les Deux Terribles- singing,
twirling, bossy, flipping, bouncing, bubbly, cheeky, ball of toddler
fire. It is said that the youngest are often the loudest because they
must shout to be heard over everyone else. I believe this to be true,
because when Kaelyn yells, EVERYONE stops to listen, even if only to
laugh at this pint-sized package project with an attitude ten times her
size. She is bright and sassy and has already has the spunk that is at
the heart of strong women. Fiercely independent, she asks for help only
if she gets so frustrated that she is nearing nuclear meltdown. Until
then, if you even think to offer your assistance she will react by
switching to DEFCON 4, warning that if you offer it again (You assclown, do I look like I need your help?) she
WILL have a nuclear meltdown and will make your eardrums implode. She
is talkative, loves anything with music and dancing, and loves to grab
blankets or bathtowels, climb in your lap, and cuddle. She is a huggy
exclamation point incarnate.
You're the spunky ending punctuation to the statement Daddy and I started nine years ago. Don't grow up too fast, 'kay Pixie? Happy birthday, Babycakes. Your birthday is really tomorrow on the 30th, but y'know – close enough.
PS – Who the hell did you learn the phrase, "What the hell is that!?!" from?