On this your third birthday

This morning - with her second breakfast of "baby 'matos"

Your favorite meal is noodles – your greatest disappointment is when someone makes the noodles too “picy.”
You eat and dribble baby “matos” like they are candy … carrying around the produce bowl, from room to room making me beam with nutritional pride and cringe with the thought of the mess.
Your cheeks are too big and saggy, your eyes like the moon -and your hair – like wisps of insanity.
You'll wear nothing but a dress and always show your underwear – which are 9 times out of ten falling down. That is if you are not in a princess costume or tu-tu. These are your preferred states if you can't be NAKED.
Your brother adores you. That's it. Adores you anyway. After a million, “LUUUCCCYYY!!!!” shreeks at the end of any day – he adores you. And, that, my daughter, is grace.
You desire him, to play with him, be with him, pee before he pees, eat what he eats, talk to him, talk at him, read at him, be read to by him, question him, deny him, boss him, and seek affirmation from him.
From all of us, “Right?, Right? Right?” - you say all day long – seeking full approval of your every word and thought. And, “actually” - correcting yourself and others, as you go.
And your “papa,” your “daddy” - is wrapped around your finger – he is hopelessly in love -worthless when it comes to actually disciplining you constructively in teachable moments, because he says, “she's cute – and she cuddles”. But you might be the only person who can get under his skin and make him insane faster than me.
You aren't even on the charts for weight, but considering the Dr. asked if you are getting, “at least 60 minutes of activity a day,” and I don't think you are inactive 6 minutes a day – their scale might be irrelevant for you.
The whole world might be irrelevant to you. At least 4 women from 4 different countries have said, “I admire her – she is so sure of herself.”
You are just three. How do I foster that wonderful confidence while the world assaults you with your faults and differences? And how do I, at the same time teach you the humility, that just maybe, just once in a while, someone else is right, and just maybe, once in a while, “me do it – me self” is not the best way?
I don't know. I don't know how to parent you at all.
When you stick your fingers in your ears instead of crying when your dad loses his temper.
When you put yourself in time out – because frankly you just need a break from me.
When you insist on doing your puzzles face down.
When you eat with your fingers like a Saudi, and still say “agua” like you live in Honduras.
You stole my confidence while in utero. But you have taught me how to pray. How to beg at Jesus feet – for something good for your future. Not come from me. For our future relationship, in spite of me.
I love you Lu.