Dear Siri,

You’re two and a half! Some nights we put you to bed and you lay there, read a book, play with your letters and fall asleep. Others, you get up, ask for something, we tell you to go back to bed, get you what you want, then ten minutes later, you’re up out of bed again, and we do this a few times before you stay in bed and fall asleep. It all depends on the night I suppose. Tonight was one of those ‘Siri, get back in bed’ nights. Tonight, during my last ‘get in bed or I’m going to close your door’ threats you said, ‘Mommy do criss, cross.’ This is when I “tickle” (as we like to call it) your back. Sometimes I’ll do the “criss cross, applesauce, spiders crawling up your back…” so you refer to me tickling your back as “criss cross.” So I got into bed with you and was leaning on my elbow tickling your back. You moved over to give me more room and said, “lay down next to me.” How could I not?? I lay there next to you, my now two and a half year old little girl, your back to me and tickled your back and your neck. I thought of how amazing it is that here you are this little girl asking your mommy to lay next to you while not that long ago you were my little baby. I got teary eyed as I thought of you, my first-born, the chubby little, serious, deep-thinker. The one who taught me so much. You continue to teach me every single day. I’m constantly amazed by you. You’re tough, strong-willed, and smart. You are sugar and spice all wrapped up and packaged as a friendly little firecracker.

Today, I walked you into preschool (you’ve been going to a two year old preschool class from 9-11:30 am every Friday and you love it). I told¬† you to wait while I hung up your back pack and coat so I could give you a hug and kiss. You were so eager, like always to go into your class, but you waited. I gave you a hug and kiss and you said, ‘thank you!’ and went into your class. You are my sweet little girl. Just about every day before nap and bedtime, you grab a book, look through the pages and read the story as you see it. You usually start with, “one day…” and then you’ll say a few things, turn the page and say, “one day….” You can sit and read a book for quite some time, in your own little world. You are a little book worm already.

You’re quite the little gymnast too. You’ve come so far in such a short amount of time. You really don’t fear much. You can do a front roll with ease. You’ve never been shy and you make friends wherever you go. Your dad told me of a story of a time a week or so ago when he brought you to the playground and there were some boys (maybe a couple years older than you) playing and they wouldn’t let you play with them. You were trying to get to where they were on the playground (across the bridge or up a few stairs, whatever it was) and they said something about you being a baby. You said something like, “big sister!” My heart broke a little when your dad told me this. You were trying to tell them that no, you’re not a baby. You’re a big girl and you can hang with the older kids!¬† I think of how you’ve always had the same personality, its just evolved as you’ve grown. It makes me feel secure in the woman I know you’ll be someday. You’ll be the friendly, big-hearted girl, who is strong and willing to take on any challenge. I love you so, so, so much.

You are such a good big sister. We talk about your new sister on the way and how she’ll be sharing a room with you and you get excited. You teach Cas so much. There are many times where you’ll push him, grab at his face, or do something to make him cry, but there are also many times where you’ll give him a sip of your juice, a bite of your snack, kiss him, hug him, roll around with him on the floor and talk to him in the sweet little big sister voice that only you can do. You make us so proud every single day. Really, really proud. I feel so fortunate to have you and for all that you have taught me. I hope you always know how special you are to me.