"1, 2, 3, 10"

That's how she counts.  She's catching on and occasionally we'll get a "4" or a "7", but for the most part, she counts "1, 2, 3, 10". 

As of 11:06 pm on August 16, Korynne is exactly 3 years old.  I hardly remember the last 3 years so I'm a little scared that I'll wake up tomorrow and she'll be 10. 

It's hard to savor life anyway,

and it seems even harder since I'm outnumbered 4:1.

I remember that on her first birthday, it was so hot that our neighbor passed out.  I remember that she wore a ladybug dress and that my mom was here.  But I don't remember what she was like. 

photo by Brooke Jacobson

I remember that on her second birthday, she ate cherry tomatoes from our garden and she had seeds all over her face and it looked like she had some mysterious pox disease.  We had to change her clothes.  When she blew out her candles, she spit all over the cake.  See photo evidence below.

And I think what I'll remember most about her third birthday is that she was asleep when everyone started arriving for the party.  She liked it when I put her in a new dress that we had been saving since Christmas*, and a tiara on her head.  She was thrilled when she opened her bicycle helmet because it meant that she got a bicycle.  And then she hopped on the bicycle with her new princess high heels on. 

*We saved the dress because we don't get much stuff that's NWT at our house and because summer just arrived here in the PNW 3 days ago.  Thanks, Aunt Erika and Uncle Kraig.

If I can't remember the day to day,

at least I'll remember the milestones. 

And with all sincerity, I thank God and the smart people He created for technology like digital cameras so I have snapshots of the times in between those milestones. 

My Favorite Korynne-isms...

"My can't want this." & "My hurt me."
Translation: "I don't want this." & "I hurt myself."

When she was eating an ice cream cone, Kyle asked, "Can I have a bite?"
She said, "No, just lick it."

"Seth, no pest me."
Translation: "Seth, stop pestering me."

Chichen = chicken

"Good job, Daddy." or (with surprise when Kyle got a jar open that I couldn't) "You did it, Daddy."

And... my personal favorite that I think should be adopted into everyone's vocabulary, CUPSCAKES.
.
.