a letter to my daughter on her birthday

I’ve been thinking of a way to describe you on the cusp of your third birthday. Daddy and I always compare you to Kristen Wiig but I’m hesitant to compare you to anyone. You’re all you, sweet and silly, and smelling of sunshine. 

Your birth was quite the opposite of your brother’s. The day you were born, I waddled walked to the local farmers market as I did every Saturday that summer. You were due 5 days earlier so I was, understandably, getting slightly impatient for your arrival and tried my best to keep occupied with other things. That evening we sat down to a repeat of SNL and while watching a skit about an ambidextrous flute player, my water broke. After freaking out for a full five minutes, we called the midwife and waited for our ride to the hospital. You arrived less than 6 hours later after a very calm and peaceful labour.

You’ve always had a sweet disposition. You love cuddles and playing Mummy to all your dollies. You're as equally goofy as you are girly. You think it's hilarious to talk to us at the dinner table with your eyes crossed and you've perfected a comical bum wiggle when you dance. You can’t name more than two of the Disney princesses but you know what hobbits are and can name most superheroes and Ninja Turtles. You adore Ariel and the Hulk in equal measure and seem to believe that Disney villains are just misunderstood. You know exactly how to push your brother's buttons but you also worship him and imitate everything he does (much to his chagrin).

I treasure every moment of you and while I'm eager to know the person you will become, I wish for time to slow down ever so slightly. As there is nothing more precious than the little girl you are right now.