Weekend + A Letter.

Scenes from the weekend. Downtown SLC.

**The Blogsy app was acting all a-fool today (and still is!!) so please excuse the empty post that hung out on my blog for a few hours. I wrote an entire post. Saved it. Posted it. And it never appeared on my blog. Brutal. So thanks for that, Blogsy. Here is my attempt to recreate that post again.**

Our weekend was busy as we filled our days with trail runs, farmers' market trips and visits with family while my sister is in town. We stayed close to home on Friday, having dinner at home and watching the documentary Tiny: A Story About Living Small. I loved the concept of the movie and it reignited my desire to continue owning less stuff and making our small space work for our family of three for the foreseeable future.

Oh. And I now want to own a Tiny Tumbleweed house, of course.

We had our usual Saturday morning with coffee in hand as we ate Tulie pastries while walking the Farmers' Market. Amanda introduced Alice to pão de queijo and, not surprisingly, she loved it. Later, after dropping Alice with her dad, us sisters enjoyed a spendy juice at the newly open Vive Juicery at the Broadway Park Lofts just a block away from our house. We had a girls' night out with two of my best friends, enjoying a lovely dinner and wonderful conversation (us moms were out till almost midnight!). And then on Sunday, Amanda and I visited our ailing grandmother who is recovering from surgery after a fall.

Get well soon, Grandma!

Amanda leaves tomorrow. And we are so sad. But now, a letter.

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Dear Love Bug, 

Today you are two-and-a-half years old. And, on your thirtieth month of life, we are amazed at what a capable and headstrong and loving little girl you have become. Every day you surprise us with words you use, concepts you understand, and emotions you feel. Lately, having learned a few swear words (thanks to your mom), you always ask if it is okay to say a word or a sentence right after we say it, like "It's okay to say Holy cow?" or "It's okay to say *&^%$ mess?"

Obviously we tell you it is okay to say the former and not the latter.

Buggy, today you had your 4th day of preschool and, as we suspected after the first easy day, drop-offs have become very dramatic. You cry and plead and hang on tightly as we take you to your classroom and it breaks our hearts to leave you there but, your teacher tells us that, after just a few minutes, you forget all about your freak-out (as you so aptly call it) and you enjoy your three-hours with your new friends and teachers.

And Mama is enjoying a bit of mid-week, kid-free time.

And now a list about you: You still love your Guy and Pa (pacifier), much to daddy's dismay. After 4 weeks of misery for us, you are slowly returning to a normal sleep routine. You are peeing in the toilet like a champ but pooping in the toilet still freaks you out, so naturally, you refuse to do it. But, luckily for mom, you tell Mama before you have to go and you will only go in a diaper (no accidents!). It's okay, though, because we know someday you'll poop in the toilet like a champ! You love to sing songs and read books. You love to look at the clock and ask us what hand has to get to a certain number before it is time to do something (like leave for school or stop using the iPad). You have left Dora… behind and now love Dinosaur Train and Daniel Tiger. You insist on climbing in and out of your car seat (god forbid if we help you!). Grayson is still your best friend and you squeeze him so tightly every time you see him. You love cereal for breakfast but you have adopted a no-milk habit (thanks to your cousin!). You are still cautious about trying new foods but we have taught you to at least lick something before you insist you don't like it (it's working!). You are still taller than all of the kids your age, both boys and girls, and lucky you! You seem to have inherited your Daddy's long legs as opposed to Mama's short ones. 

We could go on and on…

Alice Glen, we love you so much.

Love, 
Mom & Dad.

First day of school! No nerves. But now, it's a different story.