Your new favorite thing to do is dress up. This includes putting on your Halloween costumes in November, trying on every one of my shirts, wearing your cousin Danielle's bra, and dancing around Gap Kids with ill-fitting sweater dresses sausaged over your own clothes. Most mornings, you change your clothes no less than 5 times, and you are a big fan of polka dots, which you refer to as "plums." But by far, the best new article of clothing in your collection is a zebra coat from Nonnie.
Your ability to converse with us completely blows me away. You've always been verbal, but now you're telling lengthy stories and chatting like a little adult. You still think adding the word "poop" to any sentence is hilarious. Here is a brief conversation from this morning:
You: Mommy, there is cat vomit--watch out!
Me: Where? I don't see it.
You: It's in the living room. It is round and poopy. Come see it.
[We go to the living room. There is nothing there.]
You: Oh, maybe it is behind the bench. Let's check it out.
[It is not behind the bench. You made the whole thing up. I tickled you and you laughed like crazy.]
Last week, I took you to vote on Election Day. It was right around naptime and, after posing for a few pictures with my secret ballot folder, you threw a sign at the nice man in charge and then pulled all of the voter pamphlets out of their drawers and flung them onto the ground. That is not democracy in action, Scarlett, that is just anarchy. I took you home. That night I went out for sushi with Amy and Rebecca, and toward the end of our dinner, we found out that President Barack Obama had been reelected! It was big, exciting news, and a step in the right direction for the kind of future I want you to have: one full of opportunity, choices, self-worth, and lifelong learning. Plus a sweet wardrobe.
I love you,