I mean, once you lose and find a python in your house, well...it's a hard act to follow.
Don't worry, you didn't miss much. We did an Easter craft:
Other than that, it was your garden variety Groundhog Day.
But today is remarkable for one very important reason. Today is the last day I will ever have a 2 year old. (fingers crossed!) When I wake up tomorrow morning, there will be a threenager in my house.
Over the past couple of months there has been some foreshadowing of what life might start to look like sooner rather than later, and I am appropriately terrified. They do also call them the Terrifying Threes, you know.
She is still indescribably adorable.
She is brilliant and sweet and hilarious.
But she is also learning how to hone her sass, her obstinance and man, that volume button keeps getting stuck on MAX these days.
Her newest phrase is one she stole from her always-appropriate father. J likes to good-naturedly tell people to "Shut your gipper!" more often than you might expect, which explains why e's new fave is:
"Hey, Dad! Ship your gippers!"
She's always had a big personality. And she's not a baby anymore. More and more lately she has been reminding me of what a big girl she is, and I've been forced to concur.
Big girls eat their vegetables. (Sometimes)
Big girls ride balance bikes and roller blades.
Big girls can brush their own teeth (sort of) and wipe their own bums. (not on my watch)
Big girls can help set the table.
Big girls can get themselves dressed.
Big girls can handle their own Zoom meetings and tell mama to go away.
Big girls aren't shy, and can say hello to the people we meet.
Big girls can play Jenga.
Big girls can reach tree branches (when sitting on E's shoulders) and turn on the TV (but not quite navigate Netflix) and feed the dog.
I guess I have to stop calling her Baby soon. But I don't care what she says, the name Bubba sticks.
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