Apology

Three years ago today I failed to give birth. I tried very hard to will the fetus who we now call Sarah out of the womb in time to share a birthday with my Dad. Sometimes it's hard to get Sarah motivated; I am perpetually late since conceiving her. So, Dad, I am sorry. Regardless, happy birthday!!! At least now you don't have to share your birthday with someone so impossibly cute.

On to Sarah. She made it out the next day. You can see the details here, should you be feeling nostalgic. Tomorrow I will spend the day preparing for her party that I decided would be very low-key before inviting every one of her classmates in addition to the Third Ave crew. So today, I thought I'd take a moment to document some interesting facts about the almost exactly 3-year-old Sarah. When she finds the cure for cancer, journalists will want to know this stuff.

Sarah enjoys some foods I find surprising for a child her age. These delectables include but are not limited to - blackberries, olives, blue cheese, yogurt lasses and chai lattes. She also loves typical kid-food, mac and cheese being at the top of the list. Annie's makes a good one. Sometimes when Sarah discovers I'm making macaroni and cheese she squeals, does a little Snoopy dance and embraces my leg with uncanny strength, kissing my thigh.

Sarah is very concerned about the injured and is always at the ready with a kiss for any boo-boo she spots.

She loves the pea gravel walkway we're building out back. Most of the pathway is made of mulch (don't walk in that barefoot) but I made a small portion pea gravel and will slowly change the rest. She sits and lays down in the gravel. She makes pea gravel angles.

Come to think of it, she loves rocks in general. I always find very small rocks tucked away in pockets, bags, the car, furniture and once in the refrigerator.

Not a princess like her sister, Sarah still loves the creepy-computer animated Barbie movies. She doesn't care about Barbie dolls. I finally realized she loves those movies as well as Annie, Mary Poppins and The Music Man because of the dancing. Sarah likes to dance along with the players in those shows. Sarah has the heart of a dancer.

For Christmas last year her Drueke grandparents got her a giant, flat lion. It's like a bear rug, kinda. She sleeps on that thing, eschewing her bed, nearly every night.

Sarah isn't quoted here as often as Kate is. It's not for lack of talking. The thing about Sarah is her hilarity is to be found in her expressions, tone and body language. She frequently has us in stitches but I'm not a capable enough writer to relay it in words.

Sarah's a rocker and loves the White Stripes and the April May song (English and French versions) from the Deathproof soundtrack. She sings like a bird, too. You should hear her do You Are My Sunshine.

Sarah's super sweet and is full of hugs and kisses. She still likes to be rocked before bed. When we rock before bed, she wants Kate to sing Rock-a-bye Baby.

Sarah has mastered the art of snapping and does it frequently. She's pretty good at it. She snaps while Kate whistles.

Sarah has learned how to dress herself and is very nearly swimming on her own. The amount of time she'll spend completely submerged for showing-off's sake is slightly alarming to me. She will no longer use the little Dora toilet seat topper we have for small bottoms. She is hurtling towards autonomy which is handy considering how neglectful I tend to be.

She's a real lover of cats and dogs alike, but seems to lean toward dogs if forced to choose a favorite. I think she would like to be a dog. I still sometimes catch her eating the dog food nuggets.

I have never met anyone who hates loud noises more than Sarah. She thinks the sound of public toilets flushing is much too loud. She will leave the kitchen when I turn on the blender. Ssshhhh!

When I drop Sarah off at daycare in the morning all the kids yell "Drueke!" like she's Norm entering Cheers. Everyone at daycare including the other kids' parents and the teachers and staff call Sarah "Sarah-bo-bera", when they're not calling her Drueke.

When Sarah threw out her last pacifier it was by mistake. We had somehow given her the impression (probably by saying it over and over) that once she turned 3 she would no longer be able to have a paci. That night when we told her we couldn't find the paci she sat in my lap weeping and saying "But I'm not 3! I'm not 3!"

Tomorrow she will be three, just one day late. The past 3 years have been doubly wonderful since Sarah made the scene.