Thankful

Often times these days, I look at my three girls and find myself unrealistically willing them to not get any older. Peyton, at age 8, is still a Mommy's girl. The other day when I was driving her to Tae Kwan Do, she told me, unsolicited from the backseat, "Mommy? When I finish college I want to travel around the world with you and Daddy... and buy you lots of souveneirs." I know I have about two years until John and I being included in her 'traveling around the world dream' will be aced. I asked her the other day if she still believed in Santa. When I was her age, the cat was way out of the bag... She looked at me, horrified... "YES!" She said without hesitation.
Quincy, at 6, is still my loveable lap girl. She often times crawls onto my lap and asks me to tickle her back. While she's lying there she'll tell me "I'm the best Mommy she ever had." She has such an abundance of love in her, and she gives it away without being asked -- to just about anyone who she comes into contact with. She is my bright sparkley light.
Brooklyn, my baby at age 3, is growing fast -- out of diapers, going to preschool, full of ideas and independence... and yet several times a day will pull at my legs and say, "I want to hold you." Her favorite thing to do these days is to "play food," which means going to her room and serving me from the array of wooden play fruit and veggies she has. She sings me happy birthday and makes me feasts.
I love these ages... They are sweet and innocent and brilliant. I know they must grow older, and in all honesty, I look forward to that as well. Right now I am just thankful for the people they are and the joy they give me.