So my girl is 3. Most days, when I really sit and reflect on it, it is hard for me to believe she is the same itty-bitty baby we brought home from the hospital. The same chubby little toddler who was always happy. She is tall and beautiful. Smart and funny. Inquisitive, adventurous, bubbly and full of life. She is part "tom-boy" and part princess. I can see her wittiness coming out, and I love it.
She is definitely independent. She wants things her way. And she lets you know her opinions when they aren't. So, we've definitely had some battles of wills. But she is still the sweetest girl. She has a tender heart. Sometimes, when I lay down next to her at night and sing I am a Child of God, she offers me her other spitty (her little comfort things that were her burp rags when she was a baby). It may seem like the silliest thing to have my heart melt over, but it's not. Because, honestly? That spitty rag is the best thing she has to offer, and she offers it to me. And I hold it. I love this girl more than words can say. We have some hard moments. We have some hard days. But I love her fiercely. And I always will.
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