So much to remember about this age

My parents were diligent about capturing our childhood on film. My dad was Mr. Photographer and my mom was Mrs. Organize'em. This, of course, was in the days of negatives and prints. My mom's got every negative catalogued, every picture written on, and all the books done by year. She is amazing.

I've always loved to look at our old pictures. I never get tired of looking at pictures. Especially pictures of when I was little--too little to remember what was captured on film.

I'm going to guess it's the 1981 book that always gets me. Every time I've looked through it I felt like one page I was a baby and the next there is a little girl in a red pantsuit playing basketball with Chris in the basement. It's like, "Hey! Did you all forget to take pictures for a few months? What happened here? I'm suddenly a little girl!"

Now I know. It must have happened overnight. Because my baby did it, too. Baby Girl is Little Girl.

She grew 2" this summer to stay at the 90th percentile record and is middle of the pack at the 50th percentile weight of 25 lbs.

Everyone comments on how long (and light!) her hair has gotten. We get asked regularly if she is 3.

Some days it seems like she must be.

I watch as she decides to try on clothes.

All by herself. Even if it is both legs in one side of the pants.

One leg in each side.

Now, how to stand up?

She'll figure it out.

Up, up, up.

Yea! Hey, Mama!

Look at me!

I've got my shorts on!

I like them with the pockets in the front!

As she is searching for and gaining her independence, her physical abilities are making it possible. She is constant motion and quick. Her daddy said he doesn't believe she ever was still, that we ever put her down and she stayed there! This month she's decided she can go down the slides on her own, climb into the bathtub (yikes!) and be a flying artist on her daddy's foot.

Not to mention do the Wii. She seriously wants her turn!

But she knows when to get help and it is the most wonderful feeling in the world to feel her little hand on our shoulders asking for it. The trust that is sent out through those little fingers makes us want to hike to the moon and back, if that's what it takes to raise her well.

Now, if she'd just transfer her knowledge of manners and stop telling her daddy, "Here you go, Mama" or "Thank you, Mama" she might get around his little finger one more time.

We installed mirrors in the hallway so that we could peak in on her in her bedroom when she is playing on her own. But now she is all about seeing herself in whatever silliness she's come up with.

Everything is a hat.

The sand pail.

The lunch bowl.

Somebody's knickers!

She is such a sweet, sassy, and silly spirit. I cannot do a load of laundry without her telling me who wears each piece. I can't take a cup out of the cupboard with her telling me who usually drinks from it. She cracks me up when she points to herself and says, "Georgia" so fast it sounds like gh-gha. I love our time in the bathroom doing our make-up together because, after all, the brushes belong to "Georgia and Mama." She talks on the phone and boy howdy does she have a lot to say. She is tall enough to grab things off counter tops and will stand on her tiptoes to drop things into the sink. She loves a high-five after being that kind of helpful!

I've become her full-fledged interpreter. I knew that could happen, but it is an odd feeling to hear her, know what she said, and then see quizical looks. Last night I heard a toddler talking in Target and I couldn't understand a word until his mom translated. Guess they all have their own language and only their mommies know it!