Three is when I first fell head over heels in love with Lily. And now it is happening with Chloe too.
It is this magical time when children are somewhere between two worlds; they are babies and children all at once. They still like to be rocked to sleep; but can verbalize their (rather strong) opinions about everything ranging from milk to attire.
It is the magic number. When Lily turned three, Chloe was a newborn. Lily loved to snuggle with her mama; but also began to show her true self--a little spitfire ready to fix it all, help with her baby sister all while dreaming up fantastic art projects and imaginary friends.
And now Chloe is that magic age.
Chloe with her raspy Bea Arthur voice talks in her sleep about CoCo Chanel, Minnie Mouse and puppy dogs. Her dreams must be as vivid as her waking hours--when she shuffle-taps and twirls her way through the day. You can never, ever change her mind. It is focused, sharp as a tack. Chloe makes up new songs at the dinner table each night, usually centering around Minnie Mouse. She found her first best friend: Eloise, who we talk about non-stop. Chloe won't wear jeans (they are not pretty enough); prefers dresses to pants and carries no less than two puppies in her handbag. She loves a good steak. She has nicknames for everyone. She always has a story to tell--words pouring out of her like a waterfall. She eyes strangers with suspicion. She narrows her eyes at nonsense. Chloe will not smile on command; but when the mood strikes and Chloe smiles, her eyes sparkle like jewels.
And when she finds something she loves, Chloe, my daughter who taught me how to love wastefully, throws her full self into it. Lily Lou--her sister and her playmate; Eloise--her best friend; her Dad; her Grandmom; her Grammy, her Papa; her GiGi; and well, me.
When Chloe hugs me, she melts into me. She has this way of making herself heavy--she always has. When she was a mere three pounds and change, a little bit of nothing, Chloe would melt her entire self onto me--making herself as heavy as my favorite down comforter. Chloe loves with her whole being--there is no halfway for Chloe. To be loved by Chloe is magic--it is as if God's love is pouring through her eyes and arms.
It always reminds me that I am loved. That's my magic, beautiful Chloe: God with a raspy voice in tutu twirling through my living room.
Happy Birthday magical, beautiful Chloe. You are so loved. You are such a gift. And we love you, just as you are.