Dear Scarlette,
Look at you. I don’t even think I’m being biased when I say you are the most beautiful little girl in the entire world. Even though you are sagging your shorts like you are gangsta. I can’t find pants to fit your skinny little body + fluffy cloth diapered booty so half of the time your bottoms are falling off and I’m trailing around behind you, hiking them up and singing “pants on the ground, pants on the ground…”
You are still obsessed with anything that sparkles and this princess wand is your latest must-have accessory. You were playing in our closet the other day and of all the shoes strewn about in there, you emerged wearing my silver sequined flats. “That is her mother’s daughter” your father said as you clomped into the living room, trying unsuccessfully to put on one of my sequined headbands and stopping to sling a purse over your shoulder. Then I realized you were playing dress up and burst in to tears because YOU ARE GROWING UP TOO FAST.
Your vocabulary is picking up and right now you love to say words that start with the letter B, like book and ball. You point to a sheep and call it a “Baa Baa.” I’ve been trying to teach you your colors because I’m an overachiever and the only one you can say is “Blue.” I’ve been doing this using the different colored balls in the ball pit so now you like to run in the kitchen and excitedly yell “BLUE BALLS!” That’s right. I’ve successfully taught you exactly three phrases and one of them is blue balls. I’m winning all of the parenting awards. In my defense, you can practically sign all of “Jesus Loves Me” and most of “He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands” so that totally cancels it out right?
That also makes me cry because when you were in the critical room in the NICU, your roommate’s mommy and I would sing to you and Isaiah together. We’d sing “He’s got the itty bitty babies in His hands” and we’d hold one another’s hands and pray that you’d both grow up. Look at you.
We have therapy twice a week now to work on your feeding issues because your evaluation came back and told us that your eating skills were at the level of a 9-10 month old. I could have told them that. Actually, I DID tell them that but when you get older you’ll learn something about something about this thing called “RED TAPE.” So most of our day is spent with me trying to cajole you into touching some sort of food stuff. The stubbornness that served you well during the five and a half months you spent fighting for your life is making it’s appearance in the form of you clamping your lips shut and shaking your head wildly when you see food approaching.
Unless it’s cheese. You love cheese and you’ll wrap your arms around my legs, smile up at me and say “CHEESE!”
Your daddy always gives in to that.
I love you Lettie,
Mommy
