Violet at 3.5 Years

You stand 3 ft. 4 in. tall. You weigh 38 lbs. You wear 4T clothing and size 9-10 shoe.

You had a significant haircut just after your third birthday. We had you talked into a trim, but the girl before you had her hair cut into a blunt chin-length bob. You insisted. However, it's now just past your shoulders again. Still stringy, still straight, still slithering out of every ponytail I make in vain. You hate having your hair brushed. A handful of tiny moles sprinkle your body, including a tiny one on your face just beside your ear.

You are loving. You are dramatic. I hear, "Oh... my... goodness" at least thirty times a day. One day you dramatically told me that your legs were SO tired that you simply couldn't get up, not even if there was a thunderstorm. When we flew from Seattle to Tennessee in August you dramatically yelled, "We're going down!" as we descended. You also referred to the clouds as "wind power clouds." You love to play, joke and laugh. You have a magical imagination. Rather than pretend, you say for-tend. As in, "That monster is just for-tend." Also, rather than forgot it's for-left. "Mama, we for-left something at home."

You non-nonchalantly call our old house in Washington Thomas. You'll say, "I got this toy when we lived in Thomas." It's one of the most bizarre things you've done to date.

I find you have a good understanding of lots of "grown-up" matters. You know that people go to work to get money. Every time we're in the car and I'm backing out of a parking spot you maturely instruct me, "Mama, don't have a car bump." Due to personal experience unfortunately, you also understand death. Apollo died suddenly and the way you handled it blew me away. You were very sad, but you took great care to comfort me and say things like, "We loved him vewy much, Mama. It's okay to be sad. It was an accident." The only real question you had was if death was forever. You tell total strangers about Apollo. One day the cashier at the grocery store said hello to you and your response was, "Hi, Apollo is died now."

You're still in school three days a week, though it's at a new school in Tennessee. You didn't go to school for several weeks when we first moved. I wanted you to go on your own terms once you had time to adjust. One day was particularly emotional for you and when I asked what was wrong you said, "I just miss school." So you've been going since September and you love it. I was nervous about your first day, but you reassured me by saying, "I not gonna cry cause I'm happy and a big girl. I'll cry zero." Fox still accompanies you daily.

Some days you eat a lot. Some days you eat hardly anything. Cheese prevails as the favorite food. You call chips crackers, which regularly causes confusion, because you call crackers crackers as well. You call the cup holder on your car seat a drink pocket. You ate a cinnamon jelly bean last week and panicked. You called it "a burn bean." Also, you like (nay, love) black licorice jelly beans. I mean, who even are you?

You like the TV shows Doc McStuffins, Kate and Mim-Mim and the movie Home.

Your favorite books are anything Halloween themed (in December). Lately, you prefer to "read" them to us rather than be read to. I love hearing you make up stories as you look at the pictures.

Favorite things to do include play vet, paint, hide and seek and play pretend of any kind.

You love animals. When asked what you're going to be when you grow up the response is always one of two things: A vet or Daddy.