Dear Izzy, Max, and Kate,
I’ve written to you many times about our kitchen dance parties set to Bob Marley and the Grateful Dead. I’ve also written to you in particular, Kate, about your fondness for tie-dyed shirts , dresses, flowers in your hair, and general fashion oddities.
There are many things that make you a different sort of little girl. Many beyond carrying around an ipod with Scarlett Begonias playing on repeat (you like the Jimmy Buffett version better than the Dead’s for some reason).
You and I have sat on several Saturdays in front of the TV. The two of us in the big comfy chair. You snuggled behind my arm. Your ringlets of curls framing your petite features.
You’ve gotten hooked on The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross.
It fits your personality.
Your flower child personality (not your Darth Vader fanatic “I want to scare the other kids” personality).
We’ve started recording them for you on the DVR. Here you are cuddled up in Izzy’s bed watching the happy painter paint a mountain range in his happy little world – with happy little trees – and reflections – and affirmations that it’s good to make friends with nature – because “someday nature will take over again and we’re gonna need a friend.”
And here’s the happy picture you had me draw with your crayons for you in the morning:
I love you,
Sat: Rode 2 hours
Sun: Ran 1 hour