The last several months have been revelatory or humbling, depending upon my pregnancy hormones. Avery is moving ahead at such a speed that it’s hard to digest it all, some days I am more aware of the language development, other days her athletic prowess, every moment her 0-60 in 3 seconds charisma. Looking back I realize that so much of what she is accomplishing we never gave Briar an opportunity to try – feeding herself soup at 16 months? Ha, I barely let her hold a sandwich.

Today watching Briar play Caribou for the first time I was shocked. She was standing at her Papa’s knee, a look of reverent anticipation colored with a Christmas morning like excitement. He taught her how to play and, to what was shameful surprise on my part, she totally got it. She’s three, has been since September.

A series of flipped images beginning with the letters A, B, or C and in yellow, red or blue, spelled a simple message:

Don’t be afraid to let her try.
To let her succeed.
To let her fail.

And now, I won’t, but I can’t promise I won’t have a lump in my throat.