Dear Georgia,
Today in primary, we played a game called "The Golden Plates Lay Hidden," where I hide a set of golden plates and someone comes into the room and has to find them. It's like the hot/cold game. Well, towards the end, you wanted to be "it" along with another little boy in your class named Sam. I put you out in the hall, and told you both to be very reverent. I handed the plates to one of the presidency members who was sitting in the front of the room. I brought you back in, and we started singing Praise to the Man very softly. I guided you in the right direction, and you both stood right next to the woman holding the plates with the most confused look on your faces! I pointed to the plates in her hand, and you just looked at me and shrugged. Finally she handed them to Sam, and the round was over. You were so happy that you got a turn! It didn't matter to you that you didn't really know what the game was, or even what you were looking for. You were happy to have a chance to play the game.
I've been thinking about that, and I want to tell you something very important, so listen up. Sometimes you aren't going to know what's going on. Sometimes you're not going to know where to look, or what to do. But I always want you to try. Don't worry about the people that are watching you. Don't worry about not doing it just right, or making a few mistakes along the way. Eventually, with help from people nudging you in the right direction, you will figure it out, and then you'll know that you did it!
Thank you for being so cute, and for always making me smile. It turns out that today was my last day in primary, and I'm so glad that you got a chance to participate. I will always be happy about that.
Love,
Mommy
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Dear Georgia,
I think I've mentioned before that you love to sing, but not that you love to tell stories. Well, a story. The story of The Bleeding Princess. Don't ask me where that came from, you just started telling it one day and now it's the only story you tell. And the funny thing is, it's almost exactly the same every time with very little variation. Today, I caught you in the tub in a performing mood. So, without further ado, I present to you "The Bleeding Princess."
I think I've mentioned before that you love to sing, but not that you love to tell stories. Well, a story. The story of The Bleeding Princess. Don't ask me where that came from, you just started telling it one day and now it's the only story you tell. And the funny thing is, it's almost exactly the same every time with very little variation. Today, I caught you in the tub in a performing mood. So, without further ado, I present to you "The Bleeding Princess."
Love,
Mommy
P.S.
You're weird.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Dear Georgia,
You are a performer. You love to watch yourself in the mirror when you sing and dance. And it provides endless entertainment for anyone lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it. For the past couple of weeks, your "rock-out" song of choice is this one:
Probably not the best video for you to watch, but hey - you're just singing along with it in the car. Anyway, it's hilarious, and you love it. Whenever she says "your love, your love, your love" you say "galub, galub, galub." And when she says "lovesick crackhead" you say "love the crackin." And at the end she says "I like your beard" and you say "I don't like your weird." Oh, man, is it funny. And it always makes my day - so keep up the performances - I'm at the edge of my seat!
Love,
The worst example in the world
aka Mom
You are a performer. You love to watch yourself in the mirror when you sing and dance. And it provides endless entertainment for anyone lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it. For the past couple of weeks, your "rock-out" song of choice is this one:
Probably not the best video for you to watch, but hey - you're just singing along with it in the car. Anyway, it's hilarious, and you love it. Whenever she says "your love, your love, your love" you say "galub, galub, galub." And when she says "lovesick crackhead" you say "love the crackin." And at the end she says "I like your beard" and you say "I don't like your weird." Oh, man, is it funny. And it always makes my day - so keep up the performances - I'm at the edge of my seat!
Love,
The worst example in the world
aka Mom
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Dear Georgia,
It has been long time since I've written, and it seems like you've grown up so much. You are turning into a beautiful little girl, and are no longer my baby. Figuratively, of course. Because you will always be my baby. I want you to know how proud I am of your headstrong nature. I always tell people that you have the potential for the General Board. Or you'll be terrible. It will go one way or the other, and I appreciate the opportunity to step up as a mother and guide you on a path that will bring you all of the blessings I know are intended for you. You are just starting to come out of your "evil" phase, and I can definitely see the light at the end of the tunnel. You are stubborn, ornery, sassy, and cranky. You are also sweet, thoughtful, forgiving, and compassionate. Sadly, I'm pretty sure all of those qualities come straight from me - the good and the bad. You know what they say about apples...
Anyway, there's a lot to catch up on and I can't wait to share what you've been up to - it's been a lot! So keep growing, keep getting to know yourself, and no matter what be true to who you are - your personality will take a while to grow into! You are such a special blessing to me, and I hope you always remember that.
Love,
Mommy
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Dear Georgia,
Yesterday you got your hair cut.
I love your long hair.
It is thick, wavy, beautiful.
I love your long hair.
But it was starting to bother other people.
Especially your dad.
So I lost the battle, and your hair had to go.
I cried a little bit.
I know that's dumb.
Even as I write this I am very sad.
In memorium, here are some pictures of your amazing long hair.
Your short hair is cute.
It will grow (on me).
Sigh.
Sadly,
Mommy
Yesterday you got your hair cut.
I love your long hair.
It is thick, wavy, beautiful.
I love your long hair.
But it was starting to bother other people.
Especially your dad.
So I lost the battle, and your hair had to go.
I cried a little bit.
I know that's dumb.
Even as I write this I am very sad.
In memorium, here are some pictures of your amazing long hair.
Your short hair is cute.
It will grow (on me).
Sigh.
Sadly,
Mommy
Friday, April 1, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Dear Georgia,
I dropped you off at daycare today, and you were more tired than normal, but you seemed fine. You ate breakfast, got yourself dressed - just a normal day. Then, at around 11, Brenda called me and said that you threw up at the playground.
At 11:15, I picked you up, and you were as white as a ghost. You could barely walk over to me. I put you in the car, and this is what you looked like. Isn't that a sad face? My poor baby. We went inside and you went straight to sleep in my bed and slept clear through until after dinner. You seem to be fine now, but whatever bug you had really threw you off. I'm so sorry you were sick. There's nothing worse than seeing your children when they hurt, or don't feel well.
I have to admit, though. It was nice to have you be a little bit clingy. Normally you don't need a lot of cuddling, but today you have and I have LOVED it. But I hope you are 100% tomorrow - I'd rather have you be happy :)
Love,
Mommy
I dropped you off at daycare today, and you were more tired than normal, but you seemed fine. You ate breakfast, got yourself dressed - just a normal day. Then, at around 11, Brenda called me and said that you threw up at the playground.
At 11:15, I picked you up, and you were as white as a ghost. You could barely walk over to me. I put you in the car, and this is what you looked like. Isn't that a sad face? My poor baby. We went inside and you went straight to sleep in my bed and slept clear through until after dinner. You seem to be fine now, but whatever bug you had really threw you off. I'm so sorry you were sick. There's nothing worse than seeing your children when they hurt, or don't feel well.
I have to admit, though. It was nice to have you be a little bit clingy. Normally you don't need a lot of cuddling, but today you have and I have LOVED it. But I hope you are 100% tomorrow - I'd rather have you be happy :)
Love,
Mommy
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