Dear Malia...

Dear Lili-bug,

Today you used the potty! The joy that this brought to the depths of my soul was shocking. I've heard from other mothers that this would be the case... and I know the road doesn't end here (you are FAR! from "potty-trained"... once does not a new trick make), but this is quite an accomplishment, especially for you. From birth, your digestive system has not been your best friend. Pooping is something that has always been difficult for you (and I can just picture your beautiful face glowing with embarrassment as you read this 10 years from now). Because of this, our attempts at beginning the potty-training process have all failed. You are almost scared of it.

We've purchased a little seat to make that big hole not seem so daunting. It even has little yellow duckies on it and bubbles that glow-in-the-dark. We've purchased a hot pink step-stool to make it so that your feet have somewhere to plant themselves and not dangle in the abyss. There is even a large jar of bribery M&Ms sitting right next to the toilet (which I'm sure has been the cause of great confusion of any recent guests). I've promised you dance lessons, which you've been asking for daily, once you master this crucial step into being socially acceptable. You have a "potty" in your own room that sings songs to you, lights up, and praises and applauds you when you push the flusher. None of these things have made using the potty appealing to you.

However, today, you were standing in the shower, playing with your toys as I got dressed when, out-of-nowhere, I heard the most magnificent 7 words ever. "Mommy! I need to use the toilet!" After pinching myself, I ran to your aid to see your soaking little nekkid body in the shower with your hand covering your little places and a look of concern on your face. I hoisted you up as quickly as my bulging belly would allow and set you on the toilet. And there, Niagara occurred! The joy that tinkling sound caused in my heart was insurpassable. All of this without any of those gimmicks we've spent far too much money on! After I helped you wipe, flush, & wash your hands, I gave you 2 M&Ms and a big hug. I told you how proud I was and the grin on your face was priceless. It was almost as if you were more proud for making me proud than I was of you. These are the moments that make the bond of a mother & child unbreakable... until you're 15 and hate me.


On Sunday, your father had a Priesthood meeting, and to pass the time, you & I took a walk. The moon was out and full and looked larger than usual. As we walked, hand-in-hand, you shouted with excitement, "Look at the moon, Mommy! It's so BLUE-tiful!" You made this statement at least a dozen times throughout our walk, with each time full of as much vigor as the last. It was inspiring to me. The simple things. You appreciate them in a way I've forgotten how. Thanks for the reminder, kiddo. I'm learning a lot from you.

You also were convinced that the moon is a living, breathing friend of yours. You shouted out to it, "C'mon, moon. Wanna' hang out with us?! It be fun!" I had to explain to you that the moon had an obligation to light up the night sky and that maybe it would play with you later. I am finding my poor excuses are working less as you get smarter, as you woke up the next morning and asked me, "Will the moon hang out with us today?" I just smiled. I was too tired to have a clever explanation.


Whenever we are in the car, you ask me over & over, "What're you gonna' DO today, Mama? A' gonna' DO today?" I usually tell you, but it doesn't stifle the questioning. Five minutes later, you ask again. The only time my answer seems to suffice enough for you to stop asking is when the answer pleases you. "We're going to play at Disneyland, Malia." "Yes. We are!" And then a lovely, peaceful quiet the rest of the way... until we pull into the parking structure, which usually then elicits run-on, yet somehow incomplete, sentences about which rides you intend to go on. You've definitely inherited that ability from me. You begin to speak, but it's as if your mouth is going faster than your brain, and you say the first few words to your sentence about 1/2 a dozen times before you figure out what it is you were trying to say. Sometimes you get distracted by another thought and your sentence detours in that direction. It drives your father nuts as he now lives with 2 women he can't communicate with.


I've noticed lately that most children your age are not very obedient. You are, and I am blissfully aware and grateful for this. When we are out & about, I will hear a parent shout demands and warnings to their children multiple times as the child completely ignores them and continues on their merry way. Not only do my commands usually immediately stop you in your place, but if you didn't hear what I said, you will turn to me, squint one eye, and pull up the corner of your mouth on that same side, which gives you a very adult-like perplexed expression, and say, "Wha' you saying, Mama?" Then I am given the chance to repeat myself and you obey. Honestly, could it get any easier?

Whenever I make a little noise and grab my belly in reaction to being kicked by your future (and incredibly powerful) little sister you will say to me, "Your belly hurts, Mama? 'ecause baby sister is kicking your belly. Be nice, baby sister!" I know the day will come when the 2 of you will be in cahoots against me, so for now, I appreciate your concern more than you know.

Love, Mommy