Dear Smalls,

What am I going to do when you’re all grown up? You’re already so much more mature than most kids your age, but you’re more like a kid at heart than most kids your age too. You’re something special; you know that?

You’re so cute… I’m cereal.

We are on the trampoline, and you make me take these two pictures…

You won’t tell me what they mean. You laugh and laugh until I guess correctly (Crack kills), and cackle as if it was the last funny thing on earth, and you need to milk it for all it was worth.
I love that we can just lay around and laugh at how silly we’re being.

For some reason, you keep trying to touch my teeth. Sometimes I’m not sure why you do the things you do. But then you cackle and cackle and I forget that it’s weird, because I’m lost in the joy of your laughter.

I like that you’re not too old to pretend to shove your finger all the way up your nose. You’re not fooling anyone, but it’s still funny. For the record, it’s never old. What’s lame is that it becomes more and more inappropriate the older you get. You’ll learn this later.

Look at you and your sassy face. Where did you get that? I love this look. You look like you’re about to do something mischievous, enjoying every minute of your evil plots.

I snuggle my face to your own and leave it there. You’re the only person I can do this to without feeling awkward.

I can look at you for hours. I know it makes you nervous, and then you blush and act bashful, but I just can’t help myself. I will probably never get any work done when I have my own kids, because if I’m this bad with you, there’s no hope for me.

Sticking your toe up your nose = genius. Though I have to tell you… it doesn’t fit. Nothing that large is going to get in all those nooks and crannies; you’re better off with a finger. I’m just sayin’.

I like it when we make faces. Yours are invariably cuter than mine, though you’re not trying to be.

I think it’s great that you’re big enough now that I can steamroll you without any tears on your part. Not that I did that before… I just think it’s cool. I think to myself that it’s too bad your knee is skinned, or you would be getting ‘rolled but good.

I love how you’re experimenting with your hair lately. It’s big (like mine was before I cut it) all of a sudden, and you’re not too pleased with it. Well, it might get worse, so it’s good that you’re learning what to do with it now. (Hint: Put lots of goop in your hair, and never touch it if you can help it.)

Every photo shoot of the two of us eventually degenerates into a freak show of face-making.

You’re glaring at me because I told you earlier to stop sticking out your tongue and that it was gross. After this picture, you totally call me on it. I can’t get NOTHING past you, foo.

Of course you decide that you could sneak your tongue out, since I did it first.

We try to touch our noses, but neither of us can do it. We’re both so maddeningly close that there’s nothing more to do except laugh at the spectacle we see in the camera screen. Then you tackle me and knock me over. You do that sometimes.

For some reason my mouth fascinates you at this moment, and you won’t stop grabbing it. I attempt to bite you, and success is mine. Your finger doesn’t go away though. Begone!

You make this face and I laugh until I think I might pee, just a little.

And I only realize later that this face is the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen. My laughter at the computer screen brings you running out of the bedroom to see what the fuss is about. Fuss noted, we both laugh until we cry.

And though we make faces and pick our noses and act like freaks now, I know that there will come a time when you are too grown-up to act this way with me. It makes me a little sad, but I know that you’ll get over it like I did. I remember vividly the time in my life when I was so embarrassed at Mom singing opera in the grocery store or dancing in the mall that I wished I could crawl in a hole and pull it in after me, but I emerged on the other side unscathed and now torment you with the same behavior.

Thinking of you as a young woman is exciting, unbelievable, wonderful and terrible. It makes these silly moments all the more precious to me. It makes me sad for all the times I’m too busy or tired to play with you, sad for all the times you want to do something and I beg off, sad for the moments I’ve missed already. But I know that’s a part of life, and I know that we’ll continue to be good friends. For now, you are still a girl, and I’m proud to be your big sister.