lately, i feel like i have been not able to appreciate where Isadore is at....people ask "how are the girls?" and i say "Mayan is great--she is learning to swim and really brave in the water...she is reading like crazy.....her training wheels are off her bike! oh, and isadore......isadore is very three." the girls is cuter than a button (which is sometimes her saving grace) but i do spend the greater part of my day saying "please don't kick the dog, he doesn't like that..." "let GO of the cats tail!" "who drew on the wall?? pens are for PAPER ONLY!" if she doesn't like what we are saying, she immediately juts her bottom lip and crosses her arms and stomps off. i say "Mama and Papa are not being unfair, we are looking out for you...you may be disappointed but you don't need to be rude." or as she would say "wude." her toddler accent cracks us up--our favorite phrase: "do dat daden!" (do that again.)
she frequently finds her strength in being one of her characters that she has created. often it is a ninja (all black clothing with her "N is for Ninja" shirt) or a kitty, or the ever-popular kitty-ninja. then there is Strong Girl, which she created after seeing the Strong Man competition on TV, and merely requires her changing her clothes into short-pajamas (you know, the kind that shows off her muscles) and then she goes around the house lifting kid chairs and such. the other day at music class she insisted on carrying a heavy basket of instruments, and, as she did, saying to all the other moms in the room over her shoulder "i am Strong Girl, after all..." like she was reminding us of the identity that her long sleeves and pants concealed. another fun one is "Lil' Kick"--not sure how this one developed but she wears a very spangly blue and purple tutu and a witches hat. oh and black rain boots. just now she ran in wearing pink from head to toe and said "Hey, mom, look at me! My name is Pink!" i must say, since she really isn't a girly-girl, it was a surprising change from all black.
a few days ago while me and Blake were waist-deep in house projects, little miss found some kids scissors on the kitchen counter. later blake came upstairs and asked "who found some hair and left it on the kitchen floor?" (it is not unusual to find haircut reminents in our house as blake likes to save them) but the more i thought about it the more i thought...that is probably fresh hair--so i scanned isadore's head and sure enough she had gotten a good chunk of front hair. this was disappointing as we've been growing out her bangs forever and they are juuuust getting to where they are long enough to stay in her pony tail. "isadore!" i said in my best mommy-is-serious voice. "you may not use scissors on your hair. if you want a haircut you have to ask us--and then mama or papa or a hair dresser will do the cutting." big tears welled up in her giant round blue eyes "but i weally want short hair..." "well, i understand, honey, if your hair was in your face....but next time PLEASE ask." "okay, Mama." she wiped her tears and i kissed the top of her head--then as quickly as i could grabbed Blake's arm and pulled him into the bathroom where i could finally let my laughter go. between the uncontrollable giggling, i confessed, "i didn't want to lead on....but....it actually looks.....really good!" it wasn't complete but she has a great face for bangs so it was hard to be really upset. we don't have a decent pair of haircutting scissors and asking a three year old to keep their head still while you chop hair near their eyeballs with dull blades wasn't easy--it is still very crooked, but she looks like a doll.
then yesterday, while mayan was at her music class, isadore and i had 40 minutes to kill somewhere in the neighborhood.....the sun was out but the temp was in the lower 30's even though the wind chill made it seem less. even so, we braved our first stroll around Laurelhurst Park, a centrally located park just off Burnside, with great walking trails and a huge pond in the center. i dug around the car for gloves and hats and decided that we were well-equipped enough to do a quick walk around. i kept a steady pace while Isadore "was so three" all around me...only this time it was okay to be three. she galloped wildly and then would halt the minute something off the path caught her attention, and change course. she found the perfect stick which became her constant companion for poking piles of leaves and bushes and pointing to dogs. she kicked pine cones and, with rosey wind-kissed cheeks, would call out to me excitedly every time she saw something of interest ("Mommy!! Look at that duck!!"), asked a bazillion questions ("why isn't the pond moving??--it was frozen), and made simple observations ("the dog is kicking up dirt....that lady has wheels on her chair....") and personal statements ("I'm not afraid of dogs anymore!") basically she just didn't stop--and something clicked that hadn't in a while. suddenly, *three* wasn't so annoying--*three* was actually pretty cool, and magical, and special, and in this moment, suits isadore perfectly.