Dear Miss Ellery Paige,
Happy 3rd Birthday! I cannot believe you are 3 years old today. I remember clearly the day you were born at 11:16 pm. Our lives were changed forever. You spent 3 days in the NICU and I didn't want to be away from you one minute. I would whisper to your little ears, "Mommy loves Ellery." I still whisper that to those same, but bigger ears.
You have changed so much this past year. You have gotten so tall and your chunky monkey legs are disappearing before our eyes. You speak so well and clearly and have such a vivid imagination. Your daddy and I think you are so incredibly smart. You amaze us all of the time with your memory and the things you say and do. You can write "Elle" now.
You have had a big year, welcoming your baby brother. You were born to be a big sister. You are such a helper to your mama, so much that sometimes I forget that you are still a baby yourself. You love Pricey and he adores you too. You keep him entertained throughout the day.
You have always loved an audience.
You still love playing with your baby dolls and have started "holding class" in our playroom. You enjoy playing outside with your friends, riding your bike and scooter, and you also love to color and paint. You enjoy reading books and coming up with your own stories at night to tell your dad and I. We have started playing games as a family and you enjoy this so much. Singing is also one of your favorite activities, and you always do it with such great animation. You memorized your first Bible verse recently, one your daddy taught you.
You can be a little hard-headed at times and get frustrated when you can't figure something out or do something on your own. You have always been miss independent. You have so much life in you - something I have thought about you since day one. Your name means "strong leader", and I see this quality in you already.
Happy Birthday to our beautiful Ellery. We love you in the morning and we love you late at night, we love you in the evening when the moon is shining bright....mom and dad