Madeline May!

Madeline will be five in March and is acting more and more like a real big kid! She really is a little mommy to her brothers. She loves to mix up John's baby food and feed him, and this morning, she changed Charlie's diaper and helped him get dressed. Then she proudly said, "Okay, you're all set, little buddy!" She also gets herself ready every day. She looks fabulous, even when she's wearing two different hair bows, leggings with a ripped out knee (her favorites) and a summer dress over a black turtleneck. And she's like an artistic MacGyver, creating elaborate art projects out of random things she finds in the yard and around the house.

No one can make John laugh like Madeline! He will literally shriek with laughter when I ask her to keep him busy while I finish making dinner. She's inquisitive and whip smart -- it's getting harder and harder to talk in code, and the meaning of things doesn't always fly over her head anymore. For example, she loves the song Humble Me by Norah Jones and asks me to sing it to her as a lullaby some nights. But lately she's started picking up on the grown-up lyrics and I end up navigating some pretty tricky questions like, "Why did Ms. Norah say he kicked the bottle?" and "Why doesn't baby Theresa know who her daddy is?" (Now I ad-lib words or hum certain bits). Her nickname has been Mimi since she was born, but it really took off when it was the only way Charlie could say her name awhile back. Now it's taken on a life of it's own -- Charlie almost always calls her Meems or Meemers.

This fall, I had a ball going with Madeline on her school field trip to the local Owl Hills nature sanctuary. I left the boys with a sitter and we enjoyed a special mother-daughter morning together, taking a hay ride, picking out a pumpkin and looking at animal tracks through the woods with all her little school friends. With preschool has come potty talk in all its glory. Which, of course, Charlie thinks is hilarious. So rarely an hour goes by when the two of them aren't giggling their heads off, changing the words to their favorite theme songs. Take Mickey Mouse. It's reduced to Mee-ska, Moo-ska, Mickey Poopoo. Or a playful back and forth calling each other smelly socks, stinky toots to Mr. DooDoo. Sigh.

At bedtime each night, I stand at her door and we pretend to blow hundreds of air kisses at each other, then frantically try to catch them. We imagine the kisses are sparkling and look like butterflies as they pass between us. Before I close her door, I always say, "God bless you" and I tell her that I love everything about her. Because I do.