Let's Slow That Clock Down

Last week, we celebrated Lola's birthday.

It was a whirlwind which turned into a busy couple of days and a nonstop weekend, and now here I am, nine days later, finally finding the time to sit down and write a little bit about it.

I can't believe she is three years old.

I mean, I can.
I have been awake for probably 70% of it. Maybe more. But still, in my chronic sleep deprived (yet highly functional state), it is just hard to believe that three years has passed since her birth.

This past year, like the ones before it, has been one of many transitions. The clingy, nursing, crib-sleeping, diaper-wearing, sippy cup yielding toddler has been replaced by a little girl who tonight was rocked to sleep with a story of a duck riding a bike, while she wore her Hello Kitty underwear and snuggled Mr. Bun Bun in her "big girl" bed.

While her strong spirit has always been fiercely independent at home, she has started to feel more comfortable in the world and occasionally, she detaches herself from my hip and interacts with other pint-size kids. The relief this has provided me is immense. On occasion, she will even request to go to the gym or the grocery store, just so she can participate in the daycare services those places provide.

This weekend will mark the start of another transition as she has her first independent swim lesson. Lola and I have had many discussions regarding how her lesson on Saturday will be different from the usual parent-and-tot class we take together. At the end of these conversations, she always quick to remind me that in exchange for her cooperation (i.e., getting the pool by herself), I have promised a lollipop.

Her ability to remember things, even the tiniest of details, always surprises me. I know that it shouldn't, but it does. Her curiosity, her ability to absorb information and process it in a way so she can understand the world, her need to slow down and just observe. I feel as those these things are uniquely Lola, while simultaneously knowing that they are part of this new age.

Tonight, when we left the gym, she asked if we could pause our walk to look up at the night sky. She likes to look at the stars, search for an airplane, and tell me that she is going to catch the moon.  So we stood there in the cold, bundled in our coats, holding hands on the sidewalk, and stared at the blackness above us.

She is a wonder.
She is 3 years old.