Dear Bianca Nicole—

You—we—are three. As you like to tell me, you are “NOT A BABY.” But, as I like to tell you, “You will always be mine.”

You are wild and determined and chatty and fierce. You are a social butterfly at school, waving goodbye to everyone as we leave, and telling me all about them.

You love swinging on swings, but you get sick in the car. Those things don’t track for me, but they are very indicative of who you are to me: a woman of many layers. Already.

You don’t nap. You quit napping soon after two. That is…less than idea for me because I need to work and you are BIZ-AY. But, you always seem to know the exact right time to tell me I’m beautiful, make me smile, and diffuse my frustration from running to the potty with you for the 5th time in twenty minutes.

When it’s bedtime, you don’t make it easy. You ask for stories and vitamins and lots of sips of water. If there is not a preferable level of water in your cup, you demand we fill it higher. If you’d like more sips after we’ve left your room, you do not get out of bed. You yell for us. Usually for dada. That part, I appreciate.

And then, you give the tightest, best hugs. You are unstoppable, constant, charming, and hilarious.

You make our family whole.

B, you love your brother, even when you fight with him. You two are very different, and I hope that serves you both in the world. I hope you continue to love each other hard (you often a little harder on him than him on you, but he may get over that) and know that you will always have your sibling wherever life takes you.

I hope you always stand your ground and go with your gut and look for light and magic everywhere.

I hope you stay exactly as you are and grow wild and brilliantly. I hope you try things on and learn and move forward and on.

And I hope you know that your dad and I love you so deeply, a little open letter will never be able to communicate it fully.

So, we will hug you and kiss your cheeks and show you your big girl bed that we got you for your birthday. And we will never stop hugging you and kissing you and showing you the world in new and beautiful ways.

Happy birthday, B.

I love you,

Mom

If you’d like to read my previous letters to B, you can find them here (2) and here (1).