On the third birthday of her daughter, Millie, Emily Jade pens a letter of love.
Dear Millie Valentine,
Last week you turned three. As I reflected over the last 12 months I found myself re-evaluating your name. I should have called you Joy because that is what you are, our little ball of joyfulness.
Having said that, I’m pretty pleased the terrible twos have past. Even with your angelic like features, your tantrums had me sometimes wishing I gave birth to a fullygrown 8 year old, never mind the logistics. But now that you have spent 36 months on the planet things have calmed down a little and I find myself calling you, a 3-year-old, my best friend.
You are the greatest company, caring and funny, I haven’t worked out if you are going to be a surgeon or a serial killer such is your love of kissing the bloodied bodies of any hurt human to make them better. You are fascinated by visiting your great grandparents in their respective retirement villages just so you can see their ageing sunspots and plaster them with Dora band-aids.
This year you mastered swimming and now I can’t keep you out of the water. We are pretty relieved too. You nearly drowned a few months ago after a frightening incident. You were thrown in the pool accidentally and I had to jump in clothes and all to rescue you. Now your favorite story is the one where ‘you drowned but Mummy saved you’. But it is you that saved me from drowning my darling. You saved me from drowning in a sedentary life. With you around I’m always on my toes, but more importantly I’m smiling, even more than when I met your Dad and walked on air thinking my life was complete. Speaking of your Dad, everyday when he get’s home from work you run into his arms and tell him all about your day. Like the time you went skinny dicking. Your Dad thought it was either a nasty phrase you picked up at kindy, or listening to the conversation at mothers group, but you meant ‘skinny dipping’ of course!
You have a habit however of telling home truths at the most embarrassing moments, like the time you smelt something funny in the supermarket and in a loud voice said ‘Did you do FART Mummy?!’ Of course I said equally as loudly, “No, of course not. And ladies don’t say it like that, it’s ‘Did you do ‘A’ fart Mummy?!”
Another quirk that equally frustrates, but delights me daily is your obsession with clothes. Every morning you emerge from your room in some form of ball gown or princess costume ready for kindy or simply jumping on the trampoline. I certainly didn’t give birth to a gender neutral child because pant’s, jeans or shorts are a dirty word in your little world. It’s frock-tober every month in your mind and I know you inherited that from me and I pray you always love a good dress, it will save you the heart ache that is jeans shopping.
Sadly you haven’t been immune from heart ache, you came home from kindy only last week to tell me that Albie, a little friend of yours, had hurt you. As thoughts of biting or pushing filled my mind, you finished your story by saying “he wouldn’t be my Prince”. I felt sad for you knowing that it won’t be the last time this happens, but at the same time I was happy. It’s nice to know that you have moved on from wanting to marry your Dad.
Happy Birthday my little Princess