Wow, Emmy, another year has gone by. A lot has happened in this past year. You have done so much and have become so much more of a personality! We love watching you, literally just watching you, and seeing you do what you do. It’s charming.
One of the big events this past year was you starting gymnastics. This was a very special thing because this was your thing – not your brothers. This was all you and all for you. And, yes, it made your brothers slightly jealous of you. Every week we took you – either your dad or myself – to gymnastics. You love it, love it, love it. And you’re good at it, too. You can already do a “flip-over” on the tiny bars all by yourself (we do spot you, of course). You are pretty fearless of doing things. But you fear help from anyone else but mom and dad. At gymnastics they have wonderful coaches but you will never let them help you out. I’m not sure exactly why.
You are a very active girl, a girl on the move. You do gymnastics a lot in the house, you dance, you prance, you run, you fly, you hop, you jump. You go, go, go. Just like your brothers. We even took you skiing this year and you loved it as well. You’d go down the slopes with your dad – loving every minute of it. I love that you are willing to try new things. Active things.
You try your hardest to keep up with your active brothers - and you do a wonderful job. You are not afraid to play rough with them. In fact, lately you have been playing too rough for your brothers! Both Jonas and Miles will come up to me telling me that you are playing too rough. I know exactly where you learned it from, though! You’re just dealing what you’ve been dealt. You play pirates, monsters, and dragons.
However. . .you also want to play “princess” all the time. All. The. Time. You call it princess but to me it’s more like “mom and baby game.” You are usually the mom and I am the baby. You feed me (things like oatmeal noodle soup). You tell me when to lie down and nap – then one second later you “ding ding” wake me up. We go “swimming” and to “gymnastics” and to “work” while playing this game.
The mothering instinct is alive and well in you. It’s neat to see. This became obviously apparent when you found out I was going to have another baby. You would talk constantly about holding the new baby – and you’d pretend to be holding a baby and rock back and forth. You expressed your desire to help me feed the baby, change the baby, hold the baby, etc. It was so sweet to see and hear you express your precious desires of mothering.
And you know what? You are a darling, darling big sister. Is it a little hard for you? Indeed. Is it a little hard for me? Indeed. But we’ll do it together and help each other out. Your little sister was born just about a week ago and you’ve done such a fantastic job with this big change in our lives. In your life. You are no longer The Baby. But you will always, always, always, always, be One of My Babies. In some ways it breaks my heart that you are no longer The Baby. You held that position longer than your brothers. It was a part of you that is no longer there. That makes me sad.
Yet, at the same time, it’s so neat and dear to me to see you as The Big Sister. Even though it is probably a little hard on you, and at times you are telling me that I am done feeding Lucy, or that I need to put Lucy to nap – I know that you love her. You kiss her. You want to help change her. You talk to her. Lay by her. Do tummy-time with her. You’re doing a good job with this change and I’m proud of you Emmy-girl.
Another completely sweet thing you do is sing. You sing all sorts of songs. Your favorite song used to be one that you made up. We call it “Pretty Flowers” because those are the only words to the song. You sing “pretty flowers, pretty flowers, pretty flowers,” over and over. It’s adorable. Once you sang “Me Am a Sad Princess” and that was a fun song to hear. Your dad and I always have to sing you some songs before we leave your room at night. You especially like “Twinkle Little Star” and have sung that to Lucy about a hundred times in her first week of life.
Yes, you have your bad moments – that often turn into my bad moments. Sometimes you are completely irrational. I know, you are supposed to be at your age. But, still, it drives me crazy. CrAzY. You are not very good at being potty-trained. Sorry, you just ain’t. You can scream like, well, like a girl I guess. And you do. But at nighttime when I come in to check on you, I just stare at your beauty and sweetness and goodness. I love you so much and truly think the world of you, my Emmy-girl.
Emmy you are simply adorable. Simply irresistible to your dad and mom.
I love you,
p.s. So I wrote this a few days ago and usually like to review and add or change things. But I haven't had the time. And right now your li'l sis is crying. So I hope the letter is okay. I know I missed a lot of great things to write about you. Maybe later. :)