where did my baby go?

Last weekend Sadie turned three. Three!

Time flying aside, I am most shocked by how seamlessly our relationship has welcomed real conversation. The two of us take the subway home everyday, which is almost an hour trip, and we fill each moment with words. Words that come out right, words that are strung together into sentences, words that communicate exactly what my three-year-old is thinking. I recently finished The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion and in it she reveals that when her daughter Quintana was young her husband would write down the things Quintana said on little scraps of paper. He put each scrap into a box partly for nostalgia, but mainly for when he wrote future novels that had children in them. As adults, there is simply no way we can recapture what comes out of a three-year-old's mouth without actually documenting the source. Inspired by this I have only written down one fragment (and mostly for Jay's benefit - I wanted to have a Sadie moment to share with him on the phone while he was in LA). Sadie was talking to Glen Miller, our cat, through the glass of our front door and she said: "stay back, you have to be safe and you not have shoes". Since then Sadie has explained to me that the whole reason why our cats stay inside is because they are shoeless. Of course. And it took a three-year-old to say it so clearly.

(At this very moment Sadie is piling her birthday cards, one by one, on Glen Miller as he sleeps on a stool. They are the funniest pair - not too long ago she bent down to within 1cm of his face and asked, "Are you sad? Are you sad? Are you sad?" Who wouldn't be when you are trying to sleep and a toddler is forcing you to study the poetry of Hallmark?)

So, a baby Sadie is not. A charming, unpredictable, inquisitive three-year-old is my girl today. And I have to say, I'm pretty stoked by that.