I never know what the date is, but today I noticed that it's the 27th, counted the months, and realized that Jemma is now 40 months old. When she was smaller, I used to write monthly entries about her development, but I've stopped doing that in addition to completely neglecting her baby book. Sorry, Jemma!
These days, she eats almost nothing for dinner every night (because I refuse to make her an alternate meal) but begs for snacks all morning. She has a big, generous heart and is always trying to make people feel better - bringing them a favorite item, drawing them a picture, giving spontaneous kisses and saying, "Your cheeks are good to kiss, Mama." She loves puzzles, Sesame Street, princesses, blowing bubbles, glitter glue, and babies - both real and doll-versions. She does an amazing job in church: sitting quietly with us while Annie's in Sunday School, looking at books and finding certain letters in the bulletin, winking at grown-ups she knows, eating her Cheerios happily. She worships her sister, except when they are fighting. She must wear a dress every single day. When she has to use the bathroom, she takes off anything below the waist (tights and underwear, usually), then runs half-naked into the bathroom, yelling, "Privacy!"
I love to put her to bed at night. We read in her rocking chair, then she turns around to face me and tucks her head into the crook above my left shoulder, lifts up her jammies so her bare back is exposed, and says, "Snuggle me" while waiting for me to scratch her back. She puts her arms around my neck. We sit like that, usually for three or five or ten minutes, rocking, scratching, and then she says, "That's enough" and I sing her the same song I've been singing her since the day she was born and tuck her into bed, forty months gone by in a blink.
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