Letter to Lacey: Thirty Three Months.

Where has my baby gone?

In her place is a confident little girl, you. Before and during my pregnancy I would spend the days dreaming about you, what you would look like, what your little voice would sound like and about your little personality.

You’re not the little girl I dreamed of, but somehow you’re better than my dreams. You’re feisty, which I know is going to cause us endless problems in your teens. It’s hard to be mad at you when you’re so darn cute. I find myself turning my head or popping around the corner so I can get all my smirks, smiles and laughter out before I tell you that you’re in a bit of trouble.

You’re confident, more confident than I could have ever imagined. Coy at first, you love to put on a show of dancing and singing. You’re quite the performer actually.

You’re obsessed with bottoms {“boms”}, boobs and doodles. Embarrassingly for us, you’ll tell anyone that will listen, “Daddy’s got a doodle. MumMum’s got boobies”. Umm…. thanks.

You’re mischievous. If ever it’s too quiet I know I’m in trouble. You’ll draw on walls, climb things, mess things up, eat things and fill things. Fill things like the toilet with loads of toilet paper. So much so that two days before Christmas our bathroom blocked up and flooded, onto our carpet. Joy.

Last night we went for a walk and amidst all the noisy cars, and interesting people you looked me in the eyes, held my face and said, “I love you MumMum”. I love you too, and I always will.

And you drive just like your mama too. Eeek.