‘Three’ is just perfect

My baby girl turned three last month.

Three.

THREE.

It seems too big a number to assign to my little baby.

Or maybe I’m just living in denial.

Probably.

Definitely.

We should just stop right here. It’s a very good age to be anyway. Three is just perfect.

We celebrated the occasion with a custom-mummy-made cake, specially requested by her highness. The theme was based on her current favourite animated film--‘Tinkerbell and The Legend of the Neverbeast’. (It should be noted that the mummy was pretty pleased with her own cleverness at putting together the various elements of the cake design all by herself).

The grandparents indulged her with her very first fashion doll. They chose a Disney Rapunzel one because, in the words of her grandpa: “I think she will find the hair is very nice to comb!”. And as predicted, she has been combing Rapunzel’s hair very diligently almost every day until it’s all hopelessly frayed and tangled. And yet she zealously combs on.

So what is ‘Three’ looking like for little Gracie?

Well, despite all my efforts to minimise the external girly-influences, she has definitely developed a decidedly girly-girl side to her character. Twirling. Dancing. Butterflies. Princesses. Pretty dresses. Tutu skirts and the lot. Though her favourite colour turns out to be blue (not pink).

On the flip side, she fits right in with the boys, being an equally ardent fan of superheroes, firefighters, Lego, cars, trains and other boy business. She enjoys watching Transformers and Lego Ninjago just as much as a good princess movie. She’s always game for any superhero or firefighter role play--and not as the damsel in distress.

She has her very own uniquely-flavoured quirky sense of humour and original ideas. The other day when she was playing with some playdough outside, she smooshed together her own creation and announced, “Look! I made a ‘Pottle’!”… “A bottle?”… “No, a ‘Pottle’!”… “A pottle? What’s a pottle?”… “Here it is! A Pottle!”. Another time she made something in the sandpit and told me it was a ‘Krista Barnum Pie’.

Food-wise. She is game to try anything. I mean ANYTHING. A couple of weeks ago I was preparing dinner, chopping vegetables, meat etc. Grace came over to sit at the kitchen counter to watch. “Can I try some carrots?” she asked. So I let her have a piece. “What’s that?” she asked pointing to something green. “Sugar snap peas”…. “Can I try sugar nap-pees?”… I let her have a piece of that as well. “What’s that one?” she said again pointing to something white. “Onion”… “Oh! Can I try some?”… “It’s a little bit spicy” I warned… “Okay!” she responded nonchalantly as she chomped up a piece. I then turned around for a minute to heat up the wok to cook the ingredients. When I turned back around, I caught Grace holding a piece of raw chicken halfway to her mouth. I stopped her just in the nick of time.

One of our friends aptly nicknamed her the little ‘pocket dynamo’. A tiny person who can pack a lot of punch. Size is never a limiting factor for her.“I DO IT MYSELF!” is one of her classic top favourite phrases she often repeats throughout the day. Whatever she sets her mind to do, she will do all she can to make it work. Thanks to this particular trait, her toilet training progressed pretty quickly and she graduated from the potty the big toilet almost overnight once she was on a roll.

She’s on a roll to race on growing and growing and growing. I can only watch helplessly on the sidelines as she speeds on. What’s the hurry, baby girl? Please don’t grow up just yet. It can wait till tomorrow. And maybe one more tomorrow after that. How many tomorrows can you spare?