Three glittery candles

I did it again.

I blinked.

And in that instant, my little girl turned three.

It didn't hit me until we woke up this morning. The alarm went off at 6, just three years and 12 minutes after Abby made her big debut. I leaned over and whispered to Justin, "We have a three year old..."

"I know," came the groggy reply. "Crazy, isn't it?"

"Ya know what's crazier?" I asked. "In ten years, we'll wake up and say 'We have a 13 year old.'"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. I'm trying not to think too much about how she's growing and learning and getting more independent every day. I'm trying to cherish these moments, and my daughter, and remind myself that my job with her is to put myself out of work one day. And so I'll continue to pray daily for the strength and perseverance it takes to keep up with this rambunctious, exuberant, adorable child that God has given us, and that He'll use my feeble attempts at parenting to reach her heart and mind with the truths of His word.

At three, she's turning into exactly the ball of fire we thought she'd be. She's got a mind of her own, and the vocabulary to tell you all about what's in it. From sun up to sun down, she's talking, exploring, learning, climbing, talking, creating, wondering, asking, following, talking, helping, leading, playing, and soaking in the world around her. Thankfully, for three hours each afternoon, she'll still rest in her bed, though I have my doubts about how much of that time is spent actually napping.

She's mostly obedient, extremely helpful, highly observant, generally impatient, kind to her brother, and still just as un-cuddly as ever. (Except for bedtime, when the urge to snuggle suddenly strikes with a vengeance. She knows I'm a sucker for cuddling, and I'm more than happy to cave in to her manipulation each night. We've compromised at singing three rounds of "Jesus Loves Me" together as I curl up next to her, being ever-so-careful not to touch her blankie. That's a no-no.)

She's excited and curious about the arrival of her new little brother and my expanding middle. Most of her quiet playtime in her room is spent babying her stuffed animals, tucking them into her bed and singing them lullabies. Some of my favorite pregnancy-related questions include:

• "Can I sit on your laps, mommy?" (that's laps, with an S...)
• "What's that big bump called?" ("It's called a womb, Abby. It's a special place for the baby to grow inside mommy." She looks puzzled, then lifts her shirt to check out her belly: "Do I have a womb?")
• "When the baby comes out, can I share my pretzels with him?"

She's recently become a big fan of Beatrix Potter and the Peter Rabbit tales, and often interjects phrases from the books into her everyday conversation. "Let's hurry and go to the park, Mommy. Lippity, lippity, not too fast!" she told me one day. And later, while playing chase with Caleb around the furniture in the living room, "I'm running all about the room!" I also blame Beatrix Potter for the addition of words like particular, perhaps, suddenly and puzzled to her vocabulary. More than one person has told me that my daughter talks like an elderly British woman.

At three, she can write her first name, count to thirty, set the table with supervision, dress herself, and leap tall towers of Mega Blocks in a single bound. She loves to pretend, play dress up, and help me in the kitchen. She's a budding teacher, and spends a lot of time correcting Caleb's speech and trying to teach him new words and skills. She likes to get things right the first time, and two of our biggest challenges right now are in teaching her to fail gracefully and to ask for help when she's frustrated with a task. She knows her left from her right and has asked me to put an "L" and an "R" in each of her shoes so that she can put them on the correct feet by herself.

She loves to play in the dirt, and she loves anything with glitter on it. She'll drive trains and trucks with her brother for hours, then insist he come upstairs and play dress-up with her. She still loves to pore through her books and delights in storytime. She has an amazing memory and excellent pitch, and listening to her sing old hymns like "Nothing But the Blood" and "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" is impressive, indeed.

I'm enthralled by her (in case you couldn't tell). So it stands to reason that I wanted her birthday to be absolutely delightful for her. She has, after all, been looking forward to it since March. So on her special day, her dad and I did what we could to make things as celebratory as possible. The birthday breakfast date with Daddy at Starbucks, the morning at the park with her best friends, the lunch at her favorite pizza place, the made-to-order rotini dinner, the girly pink cake with chocolate chips and sprinkles, and the birthday bubble bath were our way of trying to make the day memorable for our big girl.

Happy Birthday, Abby. We love you more than you can imagine.