Dear Malia...

DISCLAIMER

I've decided to steal this idea from my friend Liz, who does this on her blog for her little boy, because I think it's an ingenious way to keep memories... for as terrible as I am at journal-keeping, blogging is slowly mending that.

Dear Lili-bug:

There comes a point in every mother's life where she finds that the one thing she had all the answers to, she no longer does. As I once considered myself the unofficial sleep expert, you have now come to prove that you can challenge me beyond any of my prior knowledge. You have gone from being the most wonderful little sleeper (i.e. I close the door and never hear a peep until I decide it's time for sleep to be done) to now letting me know exactly how things will be done. Just as I was beginning the great debate of whether or not to move you to a "big-girl bed" because my gradually expanding belly was beginning to make bending over a crib a daunting daily task, you have come to remind me that there is nothing wrong with the brilliance of a "cage" that you cannot escape without my aid. Otherwise, I fear your father and I would be getting no sleep at this point. In the past, when we'd lay you down at night, we'd hand you your blanket, turn out the light, shut the door, and you were banned from our presence until morning... which you were once fine with. Now, you call out to me the moment the door closes, asking me to "Fixed it. Fixed my blankie, please!" or "I wanna' lay on my tummy!" or "I'm done sleeping!" (the latter being my personal favorite). Naps were my sanctuary, as they were still perfect... until yesterday. You have officially begun playing the "I need Mommy!" game for those, as well. All of this happening at increments of 10 minutes for a good 1/2-hour to 45 minutes. I wonder if this is your way of telling me you need less sleep now, which I'm aware was inevitable. I guess I was just hoping that wouldn't happen until your little sister was already born and sleeping through the night.
You are already quite the little actress. We took you to an acting school the other day, just out of curiosity, and the owner/director wanted to enroll you so badly that she was even willing to offer you a partial scholarship into her VIP program for 1/2 price! (only a million dollars instead of a billion)! While you father and I appreciated having our instincts about you validated, we decided we could probably teach you anything they could and more. You already say and do whatever we ask as long as there is an audience present ("Dance, monkey! Dance!"). You love applause to the point that you squeal with delight whenever it's given. You've even mastered "bowing." You have absolutely no inhibitions with strangers of all ages and often frighten small children with your lack of the concept of personal space. You look at me in shock when you've introduced yourself nose-to-nose to another child only to receive a smack or a shove. It breaks my heart because I see the betrayal in your face as you try to register why your approach has gone unappreciated. We'll have to cover all of these social graces before grade school, I think.
Now that Mommy's annual Disneyland pass is no longer blocked because the summer is... sort of.. over, it's hard to go a day without you bringing up the possibility of going. I never thought someone could love the place more than I do. However, it's a much more difficult trek now that I'm getting awkward and you are getting bigger. The heat doesn't help. Last night we were able to convince Daddy to go for FHE. That made it so much better as he did most of the carrying when you were too distracted for us to get through the crowds at a desired pace. The best part of the night was watching you on your Daddy's shoulders as you frantically and desperately waved for acknowledgement from Tinkerbell in the parade as it passed.

Everything is "beautiful" to you these days. "Look at the giant moon, Mommy. It's so beautiful." "See those cars? They are beautiful!" "Oh, Mommy, a fly, see? It's so beautiful!"

Your new thing is imitation. Well - I shouldn't say "new"... I've been having to watch what I say for almost 2 years now. But the other day, as we were pulling through a McD's drive-thru, I opened your window as well as mine (it seems to keep you more entertained) and as I ordered, you repeated everything I said to the intercom in as loud a voice as possible. Fortunately, it didn't confuse the order.

You really have picked up being polite quite well, which amazes me, because I've never considered myself as good at that as I'd like to be, myself. Your "pleases" and "thank yous" come out with ease and you are also very good at saying, "Oops, sorry. Excuse me" when you accidentally bump into a stranger in public. I beam with pride as the stranger acknowledges you and smiles, impressed with what a little lady you are.
I purchased your Halloween costume already. I know it's not even September, but last year, it took me forever to find the Tinkerbell costume I wanted in the right size because people pick away at them so quickly. When I found they had exactly only one in your size yesterday, I snagged it! You have pretty much been wearing it ever since. I have to make you take it off when we go places, because it does need to last at least 2 months from now. Your favorite accessory are the gloves. You've been saying, "I'll be Minnie Mouse for Halloween!" every morning for about 2 weeks now. "And Daddy be Mickey and Mommy be Pluto!" You've also begun "casting" other family members. Yesterday you decided that Grandma will be Donald and Grandpa will be Goofy. Good luck convincing them. Although, you're such a charmer, I've no doubt you'll get farther than anyone else ever has...

Love, Mommy