Dear Bria [4]

Dear Bria,

You are four today. You’ve worked so hard to be able to say that correctly, with the right sound at the front. Four! You proudly tell anyone who asks how old you’re going to be this month. Most are surprised because you are so tall for your age, long strong legs that always seem to be running, pedaling, climbing, moving – even when you sleep, you’re moving.

You’ve really started stretching out from the chubby little toddler in our pictures; you make me realize why people panic that time is going so fast. You eat like a bird, but grow like a weed. You think potatoes and rice are the worst things to ever appear on a plate, but would eat green peppers, carrots, and steak all day, with a side of ‘the blue kind’ (Honey Bunches of Oats). You think gummy bears are the best treat ever, and if Addie’s at school, you’ll always save two out on the counter for her when she gets home.

You’re devastated if you sleep through bus time in the morning, and love when it’s time for Addie’s bus to get here in the afternoon. You copy nearly everything she does, and patiently let her teach you when you play school. Her class loves when you visit, and you jump right in, holding Addie’s hand You’re not afraid to go meet neighbors, although you try to talk through us when we get there. “Mom, tell them I love purple!”

You are a rule-follower, crying if the boys are too wild or fighting and not listening to you, or if turns aren’t taken right. Sorry kiddo, I think that’s my dna talking. However, you’re not afraid to start a fight if your toy gets snatched, and have been known to tackle, push Addie off a bed, into the pool, etc. You won’t watch “scary” parts in movies, and you cry at all the heart-strings moments. You’re still trying to figure out the whole Darth Vader situation from the original Star Wars movies, which you loved.  You’re not a huge fan of loud noises still, unless its your own yelling and singing – which is actually ridiculous loud.

Your shoes are constantly in a pile in the van or by the door, worn only when required, with the same policy towards pants. You’re constantly riding a scooter, a bike, a hot wheel, yelling COWABUNGA when you get to the end of the drive way. You love to walk Wallie, and often “whistle” for her, which is just you chirping *woo woo!* in a high pitched voice, cracking us up every time.  If something breaks, you’ll reassure whomever that a fixer-upper is coming right up, either you or Pops. You love Mor Mor and Pop Pop days, blowing bubbles until there are no more. You love  cooking with Granny, playing outside with Pops, and can’t wait for your cousins to come play. You love the “barmhouse” and ask to go there constantly. You regularly beg to paint, and it’s just not fun unless your hands are in the paint too. As soon as Bryce goes down for his nap, you’re ready to watch Doc or Sofia, and Little Mermaid is your new favorite movie after watching the play at Addie’s. You asked Santa for a race track this year and build with magna tiles all the time. You love playing Go Fish, and often offer to share the pairs you get.

You’ve worked so hard on speech this year, something I watch and feel so proud of you as you work and work and work on forming those sounds, especially in sentences. You’re positive and determined and keep trying with both your speech therapists, and I love that about you. You’re in tears if I’m not there right on time at preschool, or if you get in serious trouble, your chin wobbling as you try to not cry. It’s very effective.  You have your opinions and will give them.  When you went to the doctor, you let him know quite firmly, and not without a trace of Ms Piggy, crossing your arms: “I no like shots, hmph!” You’re very protective of Addie and Bryce and get extremely upset if you’re worried about them.

You became a big sister to Bryce in September, and love helping with his diaper, his toys, holding him, and you only call him “Brycey-Bear.” We have to say “Gentle, gentle!” a lot, though you seem about 0% concerned about his arm popping off or his head’s angle. He does his excited bird flap every time you and Addie play with him. You think his poops are fascinating and “deeeee-gusting!” and hilarious.

You love stories and ask me to tell you more over and over again. You remember Abram regularly, asking about him, trying to figure out what he means to us. You worry that you, Addie and Bryce might get sick too; you’re reassured when we talk you through what happened.  You tell me to feel Abram in my heart, and that he’s up the stars. He matters to you more than I expected.

You wish you had a pet unicorn, and you went on the green slides over and over again at Great Wolf Lodge. You want to be outside constantly, digging with a stick, collecting rocks, and watching ants go by while you make them houses of grass. You love getting dirty, or even better - muddy. 

We’ve always said you’re going to be our first ER visit, because you run into walls, fall off of things, and are a general spaz, and this summer, you did end up being our first trip as parents to the Emergency Room.  Based on your symptoms, the pediatrician wanted to make sure intussusception wasn’t an issue. After a funky ultrasound and exam the next morning, they were worried about a mass they felt in your side, something that turned out to just be a really weird, hard poop – a poop I’ve never been so thankful to diagnose.  Because in those hours before, where all we knew was that something was wrong and there was a strange mass, those hours were the most scared I have ever felt.  You were so calmly brave during the exams and even when they had to put an IV in your hand, sleeping on us while we waited for hours for doctors and nurses in the middle of the night. Pregnant with Bryce, I was throwing up in our corner of the Emergency Room bay, terrified of the possibilities and helpless; I just wanted you to be okay and back to your normal bouncy goofy self.  We spoiled you rotten for days after, breathing huge sighs of relief and gratitude for a very simple fix (and miralax). And gratitude for our girl. I can’t imagine life without your spirited, loving, hilarious, amazing self in it.

Baby girl, I love watching you grow. I love watching you run, your sinewy strength and determination. I love your laugh and how you yell “WHAT DAT NOISE” when something surprises you. I love how thoughtful you are when someone is sad, how you’ll bring elephant to Addie when she cries.  I love your wild bedhead and how snuggling Daddy after reading is your favorite. I love how much you love to play outside; how you love stories, how you love your people. I love your juxtaposition of caution and adventure, your love of life. I love how you make us laugh, how you love family hugs, how you’ll burrow under the covers to find Wallie.

I have loved you since you were born, our tiny little 5 pound baby girl, Bria Elizabeth-Rose, swimming in your newborn clothes. And now as you sit in your purple dress with purple balloons and purple everything, I am nothing but thankful for who you are becoming.

Every day, I’m thankful you are ours; sweet, purple, four-year old girl.

I love you Bria Boo,

Mom