"I wish I was big wike you..."
"When I get bigger wike you, I'll be a mommy and I'll have my own sweetie..." (Translation... her own baby. I call her sweetie and she thinks that all children are called sweeties).
"I'm getting so much bigger... wook how big my muscles are..."
This seems to preoccupy Bailey more than I would have ever imagined. At the age of three, I don't recall ever thinking about being a mommy or worrying that I needed to be bigger. I'm sure that it was all there, but Bailey seems almost obsessed with growing up. She tells me about growing up and I laugh to myself at her concepts of "being big." She has even become aware that I don't want her to grow up too fast. She'll look at me and tell me how big she is, only to follow it with, "Don't be sad 'cus I'm gwowing bigger... you aren't sad, wight, Mommy?" Of course, I try to explain that I want her to stay little as long as she can, but that I'm so proud of her for growing up.
Me being proud of her is also something that she worries about. Last week, we were driving home from day care and she was telling me about what a good girl she had been at day care. She went on to explain that all the other kids throw fits, but that she is a very good girl and never gets in trouble. She was going on and on... and I was partially listening. My ears perked up when she asked me sweetly, "Are you pwoud of me, Mommy?" I could feel the lump form in my throat. How could she ever wonder if I was proud of her? One of the two best things I had ever done... how could she ever doubt it? I explained to her how much I loved her and how I was so proud of her, everyday, even when she was in trouble. I guess she is even more grown up than I realize sometimes.
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