Our three-year-old is made of pixie dust and spunk.
She loves sweet things like cupcakes, ripe apricots and her new baby sister.
She spins through her days like a whirling dervish of creativity.
She’s an artist — painting, cutting, tracing, gluing, coloring and then…
…she’s a teacher — lining up her stuffed turtle, princess doll, Bingo, three KPop Demon Hunters and a Muffin Squishmallow — and sternly delivering thorough lessons and then…
…she’s Mirabel! Elsa! Anna! David Byrne! and then…
…she’s a cook whipping up a mean batch of smoothies. More strawberries! Yes chef! and then…
…she’s a dancer in the doorway with her Daddy, in the den, on her bed and on the dining room table like they do in the movie Camp Rock and then…
…she’s a big game hunter chasing giant bears and then…
…she’s a hider! and then…
…she’s a seeker! and then…
…she’s not a baby! She’s a big girl! and then…
…she’s a snuggler who likes to read a good book (or five!) on a warm lap with the people she loves.
Like all three-year olds, ours is a knee-high bossy bundle of imagination and precision, reticence and candor, stubbornness and empathy, bravery and fear.
She tells a good story, asks great questions, gives warm hugs, stomps her foot impressively and occasionally shakes her fist like a true Jersey girl.
We’re so grateful she’s ours.
Happy birthday to Margo Lake. It’s going to be a great year!
