t w o

dear gwen,

you're 2. and i'm 27. and addi's 3. and dad was 26 but now he's 27. (this is our age mantra... the three of us girls go through this 'how old are you?' routine at least 2 dozen times a day. no, seriously.)

you won't remember being 2.

you won't remember waking up at 2 am asking for momma.

you won't remember scrubbing walls and floors with me,

or how today i let you pick whatever you wanted for breakfast and you picked strawberry yogurt and a banana.

or how you wanted to take a bath at 10am and i said sure, cause it's your birthday.

you won't remember how i bundled you in a towel afterwards and we all snuggled on the couch watching veggie tales. you won't remember how addi peeled an orange for you and called it your birthday orange.

or that this is the birthday you got your first tricycle... you knew i got it for you. you were there when i bought it, and i told you you couldn't have it until your birthday. so this morning when i said, 'gwen, today's your BIRTHDAY!!' the first thing you said was 'happy birthday bike!'

you won't remember how i don't exist on the weekends, or after 5 pm. if dad is there, you are his. you snuggle up in the crook of his arm and say, 'dada, awuvoo' and just stare at him. you adore your father. he adores you.

you won't remember how you and addi bring out every blanket and pillow you can find in our zip code and lay them on the living room floor to play 'night night'. and how the 'night night' game almost always ends with death-defying stunts off the couch onto the pile of bed things.

but i will. i will remember every last bit of it all. i love you squeaker bot. so much so that that little word 'love' just doesn't cut it. you are my happy.

love,

mom