Little Miss Penelope Christine is three today.
A big kid.
She is our baby with the keen sense of humor who suddenly turns very serious and somber whenever anybody else is around.
She really isn’t very fond of most other people. Her idea of a good time is hanging out on the couch all day, reading and watching movies. She takes after her mother like that. She hates having her hair brushed and she has a very particular fashion sense (in that she would prefer to be naked or wearing the exact same summer dress every day, even though it is December).
It is almost impossible to get her to smile for a photograph. It always has been.
She has perfected the art of the silent treatment and, for the most part, will just sit quietly and just take it all in. Whatever “it” is. But if it gets to be too much for her, she is not shy about voicing her concerns.
In the comfort of home, in her own familiar world, she is happy to play and sing, to make up jokes, run and have tickle fights. Once you introduce more than two or three other people, she becomes a quiet observer of humanity.
Always watching. Thinking. Our philosopher.
Experimenting with new words and facial expressions and making up jokes. Then occasionally she will turn very sad and start to cry for reasons she never can quite explain.
Sometimes I wonder already if she has the tortured soul of an artist brewing. But what is there– at three– to brew about? Apparently a lot.
When she is not lost in her own thoughts, she is a sweet girl with a sweet tooth who is obsessed with the movie Frozen and the color pink. In other words, she is three.