Yep, three. Too soon, Father Time, too soon.
It seems like just the other day we were waking up really early to go to the hospital to be induced. I remember thinking as we walked out the door that the next time we came home, we'd be a family of three.
And now here we are with a three-year-old little lady. I can't imagine what life would be like without Miss Harper Grace Finklea.
|Jumping off the big inflatable!|
Yesterday, we had her birthday part at Pump It Up. We did a Troll theme, and she loved it! She's been into Trolls since we took her to see the movie over Christmas break.
One of the inflatables at Pump It Up has a tall part to jump off of. Our brave girl jumped--well, more like slid--off. I was so surprised. Looks like Three is going to be a year where she's filled with more courage.
Over the past few days, she's gotten on a kick where she repeatedly tells us she love us. Rides in the car are filled with declarations of "I love you, MamaDada." (It's often blurred together into one word.) "I love y'alls." (She often adds the s to y'all, as if it weren't plural already.) And then we get "Y'alls are my fav-or-ites!" in a sing-song voice. We respond with "We love you, Harper" each time, but after about the 30th time, we try to change the subject.
And now here I sit, blogging for the first time in almost three years on the eve of her third birthday, and I'm an emotional wreck.
I know I need to cherish those car ride declarations of love. I know one day the "I love yous" will come less frequently. I know she'll figure our that "y'all" is already plural.
It's those little things that I never want to forget.
I love how she calls dinosaurs "dinosorns" and the movie Moana "Hoo-ana."
When she gets hurt, she cries, "I hurt me right here!" and points to the boo-boo.
I love how she asks "Can I wear my princess dress for some seconds?" or "Do you want to hold Big Baby for some minutes?" (And then tells us to be quiet because Big Baby is sleeping.)
If you ask her what her favorite color is, she always says, "Pink and purple."
The other day she gave me a checkup with her Doc McStuffins stethoscope--she calls it her "necklace"--and told me that my "heart beak was... growly."
I love that she will watch Star Trek with me. Her favorite is TOS, and she loves the one where Kirk fights the Gorn, which she calls a "dinosorn." I bought her some little stuffed versions of the crew a few months ago, and she called them "Captain America, Spock, Bones, and Uh-hoo-hoo." She's got Kirk figured out now, but she still has trouble with Uhura.
I also let her play with one of my old toy phasers. Even after 20+ years, it'll still light up and make noise. We pretend to shoot each other, and she'll fall down like she got stunned. She doesn't call it a phaser. Instead, she calls it a "puh-choo-er," which is sort of like the sound that it makes.
On the way home from Dea and Bilbo's tonight, Jackie had been saying, "Eeny, meeny, minee, mo. Catch a tiger by the toe." Harper started repeating it in the car, saying, "Eeny, meeny, minee, mo. Catch a tiger. Bite his toe!" (And then she tried to bite her own toe.)
There are so many other little things she says or does that I'm sure I've already forgotten. I'm going to try and be better about writing them down.
She's growing up so fast, I know my brain won't be able to keep up, and if these past three years have taught me anything, it's that time is fleeting.
She's already figured out how to correctly say some of the things that used to trip her up, like pronouncing "Finklea" as "Fink-ee" or mixing up her name as "Harper Finklea Grace."
And sometimes, instead of Dada, she calls me Daddy. I can't handle it.
I'm not ready to be Daddy.
Dada is just fine.
|Ready for her 3rd Birthday party!|