Today Elliot turned three. For what was likely the most anticipated birthday yet, she planned and plotted for months, deciding what she wanted for her day. Gifts: she has no clue what she wanted. She just wanted strawberry pie. She’s never had strawberry pie in her life, but she loves all things strawberry and she was determined that’s what she needed.
She doesn’t even like pie crusts.
But… Strawberry pie it was. She was choking down the crust, having eaten the filling, when I told her she didn’t have to eat it. If the jury was still out on whether it was the best day ever, the clinched it for her.
Pizza for lunch? Oh no. Peanut butter. Strawberry jelly. Because she never gets that. Ha!
Her gifts were fun. I got her a little wooden cash register, a broom and dustpan, and I made her a buckle doll carrier. She immediately buckled on her doll and went “shopping” with her new cash register. It’s what she knows! Tie a baby on, get the groceries.
I do love pretend play requiring children’s imaginations! Pierce immediately set to work sweeping the living room. I may need to get him a broom too. My floors can always use a good sweeping.
Elliot was born in a scary, scary flurry of not- breathing, knots-in-her-cord, heartbeat-skipping drama three years ago. I am so, so thankful the Lord saw fit to let us keep her, raise her, and enjoy her. She is such a love, a contradiction with her desire for independence and need for affection, and a talker like I’ve never seen in a toddler.
I love her.