Dear Mary Kate,

Your daddy and I insisted on everyone napping Sunday afternoon.  Then, we promised, then we could all plant flowers outside.

We left the front door open (yay for screen door weather!) and knew you’d wander out whenever you woke up.  We were working right by your bedroom window, not too quietly, at that, but you must have had nearly a three hour nap.  You were a tired punkin’ (I know, you’re not orange).

When you finally showed up, bleary-eyed and late for the planting party, you were still wearing the pantaloons you’d worn under your dress to church.  Then there was the excitement of getting out the flip-flops for the year and discovering that your ones with the purple flowers still fit.  Your favorite color is purple, so of course, purple flip-flops were the highlight of the day.  You’d wear purple every day if your wardrobe made it possible.  (You also tell us all the time about the purple car you’re going to buy!)

By the time you were dressed in outside clothes and had actually gotten your flip-flops on, Mommy was working in another flower bed.  You came up next to me and said, “You can use that in your garden if you want to, Mommy.”  I realized you were referring to the pinwheel you’d apparently claimed as your own, which your big sister Ruth and I had stuck in the garden earlier while you were sleeping. 

I smiled and thanked you for your permission.

“Mommy, your dandelions are blooming! Your dandelions are blooming!”  Your excitement was contagious to everyone except your daddy.  He is not very excited about dandelions.  Except, we corrected you, these were daffodils.

A few moments later, “Look at your sunflowers, Mommy!”  Yes, I had planted sunflower seeds earlier, and yes, daffodils were yellow like sunflowers, but these were still daffodils, Mary, still daffodils.

But your crowning comment of the day was as you quietly stood observing us plant.  “I watching my garden grow, Mommy.”

Apparently, we’ve recited that “Mary, Mary quite contrary…” rhyme to you one too many times.  But I s’pose that watching your garden grow is training for being a good helper as a farmer’s daughter.

We love you, Mary Kate.  Your serious commentary brings much laughter to our days.  And just a glance at your wayward spiral curls is enough to make us smile!

Love always,
your mommy

Dear Ru and Mary,

We hesitated, at least momentarily, to take you to a ballet.  Somehow we knew it would mean endless twirling around the house and the necessary creation of tutus.  And of course, I recalled my childhood fascination with ballet and my fruitless attempt at taking lessons (your mother isn’t coordinated—one week at ballet lessons proved that!). 

But we couldn’t resist taking you.  Ballerinas are too much like princesses.  We knew you’d love it. (Especially with the Princess Gigi movies you’ve been watching lately!)

And so, off we went, all five of us.  We found seats up high, in the back, worried about your brother making noise.

But we needn’t have worried.  The moment the ballerinas started twirling in and out of the stage curtains, you were all three mesmerized. 

I’m not sure your eyes left the stage for the entire performance, Ruth.  You hardly moved a muscle, except to chew on your fingernails in your intense focus.

Mary Kate, when I took you to the restroom at intermission, you informed me, “I want to be a princess and hide.”  You thought they were hiding when they danced off the edge of the stage into the curtains.  “I want them to come again and hide!” we heard between every score.

Daniel thought the lights were fascinating.  But he did finally get tired of eating the program and staring at the cowboy hat of the man sitting behind us.  So I bounced him in the Ergo, on the stairs.

And soon, you came to join us, Mary.  You couldn’t sit still any longer.  You just had to dance and twirl like the pretty ballerinas.  I was afraid you’d go tumbling down the stairs, dizzy from your dancing.  The expression on your face was priceless.  You thought you were the most beautiful ballerina in the room.  (And of course, you were.)

We started warning you when the program was almost over, afraid you’d be heartbroken for the beauty to end so soon.  Sure enough, there were tears before we were out of the building.  You’d had so much fun, but you were exhausted.  Your brother just stared at you when we got home.  You kept crying, but you didn’t know why—and neither did he!  Mommy understood, though. 

To you, it was like watching a fairytale.  It was beautiful and lighthearted and easy dancing.  You couldn’t see the hours of exercise and training and sweat and tears that had gone into making those girls ballerinas.  You didn’t know the stories of tired toes and sore feet behind those dancing shoes we showed you on the table as we went out.  You only knew that it was beautiful—and that it was over.  You were crying for the sheer beauty of it. 

There hasn’t been quite as much dancing and twirling as I expected there to be in this house the week after attending a ballet.  You talk about it, yes—but more as if it was a beautiful dream.  You know the story of Cinderella—you can “be” her more easily.  But the beautiful twirling ballerinas?  They are beautiful and lovely and mysterious.  And like a visit to a far away and beautiful land, you want to “go to a ballet again some time,” Mary Kate. 

Meanwhile, you wear your longer shirts with ruffles on the bottom, Ruth—tutu like.  And our Cinderella does more dancing and twirling than she did heretofore.  In shoes that make too much noise on the kitchen floor when brother is sleeping—bringing us all back to the real life that must come whence the clock strikes midnight after the ball!

I love you, my little princess ballerinas.  And I pray daily for grace and wisdom to teach you to be true ladies, true princesses, even more beautiful and good than the ballerinas of your fancies and dreams.

Love,
your mommy

Dear Ru,

Some days, I think your brain runs circles around mine.  Sometimes, I’m laughing as I try to keep up.  But sometimes, I’m humbled as I hear what you want to be when you grow up.

Here are some of your quotables from the past few months.

“I want to grow up to be a farm girl.”

“Mom, I have to grow up to have a breakable plate and a breakable bowl, too.  Because I have to grow up to be just like you.”

“I want to grow up to be a momma to do great things for God, too, like doing dishes and planting things and…”

“I like to not pick up.  I just like to have a mess all the time. Because a mess is my favorite to have.”

“I really like Frosty a lot ‘cause he talks a lot better than our snowman.”

Of your shadow:
”I can see myself in the floor.”

“Mom, may I pick this and blow it?” you asked.  And how could I say no.  I just hesitated to tell your daddy that more dandelion seeds just got spread in our alfalfa field…

“After Mother’s Day is it going to be Father’s night?”

“When was I married?  Who will I marry?  When I grow up, I’m going to get a ring like Mommy’s.”

And, your latest conversation starter:
“Turtles like lettuce. Let’s talk about turtles and lettuce for a while.”Finally, a peek into Grandpa’s favorite drink.  You informed Aunt Jessica, “Mary’s drinking water. Water is her friend.”  “Really?” Aunt Jess asked.  You replied: “Yeah. But coffee is Grandpa’s friend.”

Oh, Ru.  You’ll get us all into trouble yet.  But we love you.  Thanks for keeping us on our toes.  Not to mention keeping the conversation interesting!

Love,
your mommy