Dearest Ava,

You're crazy. No, I mean it. Nuts. Nuts can be fun, but it can also be exhausting. Just ask your Daddy. He's an expert in nuts. He's been married to me for almost six years, hasn't he?

But back to you. You've hit the ground running on this "terrible two" thing. It seems that someone flipped a switch on your second birthday. Oh, you're really not all that terrible. You are still very sweet, extremely exhuberant, and utterly hilarious. But you are crazy, with a generous helping of defiant.

Take Saturday, for example. You began the day by opening the lid of my insulated mug and dumping its contents directly onto the couch. You continued by bailing out the tub in the upstairs bathroom while I dressed your brother, flooding the bathroom and the kitchen below. You pulled my make-up bag off of the bathroom counter while I put your brother down for his nap, covering your shorts in eye shadow. (I knew you were being too quiet). You got to watch Dora the Explorer while my nerves unwound (and while I mopped up the puddle that was the kitchen). You had a banner day.

Perhaps the fact that you succeeded in doing all this means that I am a failure as a mother. Perhaps it is just that your second birthday almost coincided with the birth of your brother, and I am distracted. Perhaps a bit of both. We'll get the hang of it, hopefully.

But I don't want you to think that being your mama is all frustration. Far from it. It's mostly joy and laughter and fun. I love seeing the world through your eyes. I love to watch the joy on your face as you blow dandelion seeds into the wind and to hear your delighted squeal when helicopter seeds fall from our silver maple. I love to watch you make friends; it comes easily to you. I love your spontaneous kisses and hugs. I love to see you give them to your brother. In short, I love being your mama.

So, on days like Saturday, I pray that I model the gospel for you. I pray that, in me, you know a love that guides and forgives, that sacrifices and perseveres. Because the great truth is, I need that kind of redeeming love as much as you. I'm really just a rebellious child at heart (though I suppose I'm more sophisticated about it). In reality, I make just as big a mess of things. So, my dear, I pray that I will show you the kind of love I have received. May God grant me the grace to parent you well and point you to a greater Love than even I can provide.

I love you so much, my sweet, sweet girl. You're a gift.

Mama