Claire

My big girl. She just turned 3. Before the snow came, we went on a series of nature walks to collect leaves for crayon rubbings. She preferred these berries to the leaf project, and they became the perfect "food" to use in her play kitchen. They started shriveling after a few days, so we threw them out the back door for the birds. Whenever we park near one of these trees she is always quick to point the berries out. "Berries for the birds!" She shouts with excitement, even though I'm sitting right in front of her.
I love that whenever she can't open a jar or package in the kitchen, she goes straight to the utensil drawer to retrieve the little round rubber gripper thingy (what the heck are those called?) Even if it's a sealed plastic tub. She's also quick to get her little wooden toolbox whenever she hears the word "project."

I love how she's so inquisitive, and that she always likes to know where everybody is and what they're doing. I also love that she thinks the number 5 is one of the biggest numbers out there. When we asked her how old she thought our preteen mother's helper was, her eyes got big and in a dramatic voice she answered "five." Same thing when we asked her how old her daddy was turning this summer. But my favorite application of this number was when she asked me about something completely unrelated to age. Somebody was in the bathroom and she asked where they were, so I replied "he's going number 2." "No," she said with a know-it-all look, "he's going number 5."

It drives me nuts that one of her favorite games to play is the "I'm going to make you chase me around the house before I'll let you wipe my face" game, which means that more often than not she will have crumbs and/or peanut butter on her cheeks and chin. And these crumbs and smears usually show up in the photos I take of her. And as frustrating as this is to the perfectionist in me, I love that she's so happy and carefree; I love that she gets such joy from getting me to chase after her.

One day while "helping" me with a project, I was in a hurry and got annoyed by constantly tripping over her and the toys she was lining up on the floor around me. "Claire, go play!" I finally snapped at her. She looked at me, confused, and in an innocent voice replied "I AM playing, mommy!"

The student becomes the teacher...