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Dearest Courtland Whaley,

The day has finally come. Today you are three. THREE! In August. August TENTH!

I fear what tomorrow brings now that this day of all days, the day that has been the center of your world and ardent fixation for nearly a full month, has arrived. Your daddy and I have simply delighted in your eagerness for today’s celebration. The way you have grown into a kid, a little girl who understands the joy and anticipation and wonder of her birthday. You’ve been practicing singing Happy Birthday, to yourself, on repeat. Anytime we open the refrigerator, you ask if we are about to make a cake for your party. You have made requests for blueberries and raspberries and strawberries to be consumed at said party (because your diet is 99% fruit, and I swear that one day you’ll pull a Violet Beauregard and turn into a berry). Earlier this week at the grocery store, as you wheeled the pint-size grocery cart through the aisles threatening to take out any shelf or human in your path (you are quite the reckless, distracted driver, my friend. We’ll have to work on that concentration, but we can go ahead and blame preschool attention spans for the time being), you pulled a full load of peaches into your cart and had eaten through two before we were done with our shop. And yes, you were dripping in peach juice and I could not tell you where those pits made their final resting place, but you could not have been happier.

You are still as volatile and passionate and emotive as ever. This characteristic has only enhanced through the years, and while it can be exhausting and overwhelming and straight up infuriating, it can also be the most inspiring, endearing, heartwarming thing about you. You are a bundle of juxtapositions. Always have been and I predict always will. You are fearless one minute, defiantly racing away from your parents, or venturing into the pool without a steady hand to hold, or climbing to the top of the swing set, and then, on a dime, you’ll scream out for your parents, especially if a bug (of any kind) is in sight. Mama, I need you! MAMAAAA! Your voice shifts from bold declarations to faltering stammers. You need our reassurance and presence and physical embrace to calm those sudden fears.

We still don’t have you figured out. We can’t always predict what will or won’t throw you, but we have learned how to better manage those moments when you are derailed. We are learning what brings you peace. Thank you for your patience as we try to understand the mystery and complexity that is our Courtland – I hope that you will always keep the world on its toes – life would be so very boring if it could be neatly packaged and contained. There’s no containing you.

You are a deeply affectionate child, and hug and kiss and love with your whole self. Like everything about you, you are all in. 110%. I feel the intensity and honesty of your hugs and hope that you will continue to attack the world with fierce passion and a genuineness that is unflappable.

You teach me everyday how to love more fully. To take the world by storm, and to never fear speaking my mind or expressing my truest self.

I admire you, my love. And I love you even more.

Happiest Third Birthday to you.

143 Mama