The day before her third birthday, Ngaire took off her diaper and wouldn’t let me put another one on her. We haven’t been totally accident-free, and she’s mostly refusing to poop in the potty, but other than that, I consider her completely self-potty-trained.

(While I was writing the above paragraph, Ngaire peed on the floor of her room upstairs, so I think I will never mention her track record online again.)

I used to joke that, as soon as Ngaire turned three, a switch would flick and she would suddenly turn into a mature, obedient little angel who put all bodily output into the toilet. Amazingly, it almost came true: Aside from a recent vicious circle of being naughty at bedtime (climbing into Liam’s crib bearing all sorts of paraphernalia, much to his horror at being thus rudely awakened), which kept her up too late, which made her cranky and disobedient the next day, Ngaire really does seem more mature all the time.

She can now dog-paddle around the big pool, bobbing in her little inflatable suit, and after weeks of practicing jumping into the baby pool, she now leaps confidently into the big pool with Daddy. She knows most of the major bones of the body, a bunch of names of dinosaurs, and a lot of the major creatures of the sea. She has mostly outgrown picture books, though she retains an affection for some of them, and we now read short chapter books together (the Amanda Pig series is a favorite, as are any books about dinosaurs). Her memory is amazing; about 90% of her conversation consists of quotes from books or videos, expanded upon and used in context. (She and I recently had a fun conversation where we tried to come up with as many synonyms for “said” as possible; she matched me word for word.)

She is fascinated with cats, dirt, mud, bees, and butterflies. She has a bit of a dictatorial streak, which, combined with her extreme independence, trend-setting, and frequent direction of those around her (“You want to run and say ‘Look at the cat!’”) would make her an ideal auteur filmmaker in 1960s France. Her favorite colors are red and purple, and she has recently given up shirts (no, stick with me here) in favor of dresses and only dresses. She will wear shorts, but only under a dress.

Ngaire is extremely strong-willed. I think my biggest challenge as her mother is knowing when to back off and when to exert my own will over her. My own personality inclines me to the latter, but I am reminded that frustrating one’s child is not a good idea. As with the potty-training thing, sometimes my efforts to direct her meet with success only when she’s ready to go along with me. That isn’t always a big deal, but try telling me that after she’s jumped on top of Liam for the eighth time that night. (OK, that one is kind of a big deal.) I am looking forward to pre-homeschooling her this fall, but I’m keeping myself open to the idea that she may ultimately need some space from me in order to learn without resistance. She may not. We shall see.

On the more positive side, she is also one of the more openly affectionate children you will ever meet. She melts the hearts of all around her with her generously distributed hugs and kisses. While she often goes into her own little world in peer group settings, she is almost never unkind in any way to other children around her. In groups of adults, she transitions seamlessly into the spotlight, giving performances of the Hokey Pokey, Sandra Boynton songs, and old sea chanties.

One of our biggest Ngaire-related surprises was realizing this year that Ngaire is not, as we had previously thought, an extravert, but is in fact quite introverted indeed. We were fooled by the fact that she would only play happily by herself when there were lots of other people around. Silly us. When she disappeared into her room and hid in the corner when playgroup met at our house, I finally got a clue. However, she has recently learned that other children will get in on her little schemes if she talks to them, which has opened up a world of social possibility to her.

I consider myself quite privileged to be her mother. It’s amazing to me to remember her as a baby … indeed, it’s rather hard for me to believe she ever was a baby. She has come a long way, and I’m looking forward to seeing her continue to grow.