My dear Lauren,
This is a long delayed newsletter/look back from mommy. Not because there is little for me to say. There is too many stories of you I can tell, but I fear that by putting them into words, it would not do your exuberance, sweetness, and feistiness any justice.
You have a mind of your own and quite strong willed. It's much harder to coerce you into doing something than coercing your sister. But then, you let your sister talk you into sharing a toy or playing a game. I can say you are not all that into books, often loosing interest if the book is a tad longer. But then, I'd remember that you are only three and are supposed to have the attention span of a toddler, and see you go through a book and retell the story from memory. I can say that you don't need friends as much as your sister, and are often reluctant to approach an unknown child. But then, once you make the connection with someone, you cherish it and talks about it proudly. I can say that you sometimes see your brother as a threat who will definitely come for your toy and break it. But then, you also come to him for comfort and hugs when things aren't going your way. I can say you are still a toddler not that much removed from infancy. But then, you will use big words (since, perhaps, disastrous, probably, prefer, separate...) and sound logic to show me how much closer you are to starting school than to the crib (that you seldom used anyway).
Even at three, you are still a mommy's little girl. When we are home, you will request my company by holding tightly on my arms while uttering "I want you to be with me". Bed times are always a big concern of yours. You like mommy nights, and could start asking about it as early as first thing in the morning. "Is this mommy night?" you'd ask. And if I give you a positive answer, you'd smile a reassured smile and be at ease. If not, you'd pout a bit until the next distraction. And my oh my can you pout now. Turning down the tips of your mouth, out comes your lower lip, combined with a very sincere looking frown, you look adorable. It is very hard to be stern when confronted with such a face.
You and your sister has a mostly very lovely and sometimes very combative relationship. You play fabulously well when you accommodate each other's imaginary arrangements (you are in the ocean, she is on the ship), fictional identity (you are Susanna the mermaid, she is Lily the sailor; you are Ohana's mom, she is the gymnastics teacher), and story line (you are hiding from the storm, she is putting up a performance). But when you got into an argument (you want to be a child, she wants you to be an audience), it can escalate all too quickly. The laughter and animated talks turn into shouts (mostly from your sister) and tears (mostly starting with you). You know how to annoy her (tagging along staying very, very close to her for example, or repeat her every sentence), but also how to help her. One afternoon, she dumped all the toys out from a drawer/tray so you two can play with it. Soon, you begin to fight over it. At one point, you had the basket and she was complaining to me about your hogging. You grew angry. Then, I saw you rushing over to her while swinging the tray into a hitting position. "LAUREN!" I yelled at you. You slowed down your pace, looked back in all innocence, lowered the tray in front of your sister and told me "I'm just putting it down." Moments later, the arguing commenced again. I have had enough. Instead of trying to sort things out, I told both of you to put the toys back in. Your sister got really mad and threw a toy. Not acceptable behavior. I grabbed her arm and told her "now you made me really mad. I am taking you upstairs for a time out." I swung around to march her upstairs, but was confronted by you, all 37.5 inches in your frilly pink princess night gown (it was a pajama day, your favorite). Your arms are crossed, mouth was set, not quite blocking me: "now you are making me mad!" Yes. I made you mad. By trying to remove your sister from the scene. The sister who was fighting with you. The scene in which you are both trying to dominate. I was the bad guy. It was very hard for me not to break form and burst out laughing. You saved your sister from time out that day.
Often, we forget how big you are already. Three. I re-enrolled you into school a few months ago thinking that you'll still be in the 2/3 classrooms this fall. Preschool? That's ways off. Silly me. Often, we forget just how young you still are. You can recognize all numbers and most alphabets. Argue and act like a kindergartner. You look forward to the day when you can have drop-off play dates. Set behavior goals for when you are older (I'll stay in my bed when I'm four). Are you only three? Some nights, when mommy and daddy look back on our day, we'd think we did not push you as hard as we push your sister. On other nights, we'd conclude that we asked way more of you than of your sister. I suppose that is the peril of being the middle child. You have an older sibling that we can use as a benchmark. However, you never cease to remind us how distinct and unique you are. You have your humor (bottoms are still the funniest thing in the world, so is your brother), your deep belly laugh, your quirks, and a sweetness all to your own.
I woke up briefly last night as you climbed, as softly as you can, into our bed to lay between your brother and father. This morning, I watched as you slept peacefully with your hands pillowed under your cheek. One of these days, we will reclaim our bed. As for now, I'll enjoy the mornings when I wake up to you and your brother right beside me. Tranquil and beautiful.
