In April, you turned three. You’re quite proud of this new status. Three means you’ve begun attending AWANA and you’ll start preschool in the fall. You’re even ready for your first tattoo.

(I already know what I’m getting you for your 18th birthday.)

This year, you became a big sister. You had a little trouble adjusting, but most of the time you’re an awesome sibling who loves to engage with her little brother and sing to him and make him laugh. Like you when you were a baby, sometimes the only people who can cheer him up are his siblings, and you’ll go to any crazy lengths to amuse him. When we took a long road trip last week, you were by turns obnoxious — stealing his blanket, poking him — and solicitous — sharing food, giving him toys, entertaining him.

You’re (usually) a fan of your big brother, too. You admire and emulate him, adding your own often girly twists. He pees outside, so you pee outside. His favorite snakes are horned vipers, so your favorite snakes are pink horned vipers. He wants to look at snake photos on my laptop; you want pink snake photos. (Thank goodness for Photoshop.) If he says something that makes the adults laugh, then you repeat it: “Now I’m going to say it and you have to laugh!” Fortunately, this always cracks me up. And it goes both ways; if you say or do something that makes people laugh, your brother has to try too. We end up laughing a lot when you two are around.

You’re not his shadow, though. You have a strong, independent, and fearless personality. If you want to do something, you do it, whether it’s going down the highest slide at the playground or turning bar stools into gymnastic equipment. Walls, steps, shelves, chairs, people, and anything else vertical are for climbing. When your dad was in college, the school added a rule because of him: No rappelling down buildings. You’re already poised to follow in those footsteps. For your birthday, Grandpa and Grandma gave you and your brother a climbing/skiing harness to share. Your dad went up to the roof to show you how it worked; he pulled each of you up by the harness and then lowered you again. You went first and loved it. Your brother needed a bit more persuading and had enough after a couple tries. You had to be cut off when your dad got too tired to keep hauling you up and down.

You love gum; every time you visit, you ask to have some of mine. If I’ve run out, you suggest a trip to the store to remedy that situation. When I blow bubbles, you think it’s hilarious to pop them on my face or puncture them and watch them slowly deflate. You love the other kind of bubbles, too, and lately you’ve become a fan of Easter egg hunts, both hiding and finding. You know the ABC song, can count objects past five, and always want to be the one to pray before meals. The words I hear from you most often are “Yeah, why?,” always with this lilt I can’t quite replicate. “Will you wash your hands?” “Yeah, why?” “It’s time to leave the zoo now.” “Yeah, why?” “We can’t buy more lettuce for the giraffes because I don’t have any cash.” “Yeah, why?” (That was followed by the very reasonable request that I magically produce some money. Believe me, kiddo, I would if I could!)

You’re my buddy, and we always have fun together. I love you, girl!