Saturday, December 10th, 2016

I've done it again, journal, abandoned you without a thought as life continues on in its usual vain of blissful uninterest. I'm not sure that's even a word, but oh well.

My girl toddler's birthday is on Tuesday, and I find myself both excited for it and sad. She'll be four, which means she'll be exiting toddlerhood and marching well on her way to childhood.

I always found it extra adorable when she said her age.

Ana: How old are you?

Girl Toddler: I chwee!

Four just does not have the same level of mispronunciation adorability associated with it and it's irritating. Three is really the last number a child can mispronounce. By the time they're eleven, the next difficult number for a toddler to say, they won't be toddlers anymore.

I probably sound insane, lamenting my child's future inability to mispronounce her age, but oh well.

Where have the years gone? Wasn't it just yesterday when she was nursing? Babbling? Crawling? How did this happen?

I don't like it, even as I am eager to discover what the next few years will bring.

I told her she was to remain three forever.

Why does nobody ever listen to me?