Three year olds are delicious

Three year olds are delicious, don't you think? Smack in between the terrible twos and the oh-so-grown-up fours, three year old children are just gorgeous. There's usually still rounded chubby cheeks, or a baby lisp, or the desire to snuggle right into Mummy's lap. Combined with growing independence, pride in their own new skills and a developing sense of humour, it's a heady mix.

Today was Phoebalina's last day of being three. My bubbly, leggy daughter with hair made of fairy floss is turning four years old tomorrow. She has been waiting for this day since Jack turned four nearly 18 months ago. To say she is excited is an understatement.

Thank goodness we were run off our feet today being busy, because I didn't have time to think about it.

Jack had an appointment with the allergy specialist this morning, which I knew would be a long session. I spent two hours entertaining three kids in a very small space, while one of them had quite a painful procedure done. He was extremely brave, and in the end it was all worth it - Jack's egg allergy has declined from severe to moderate over the last 12 months. Our beautiful paediatrician predicts that Jack has an 80% chance of growing out of his allergies completely in the next one or two years. To a mother who has monitored every mouthful consumed by her child for over five years, this was indeed music to the ears.

I had promised the kids a 'special' lunch if they behaved themselves at the doctor's, so off we went...only to have both of the girls fast asleep when we arrived. A speedy lunch, a sprint through Target to buy new shoes (quite frankly, we had reached the point where my children's footwear made them look distinctly unloved), a trip back home to collect new pants for the Mouse (who had wet through her nappy - thank you Tupperware, for making a drink bottle that holds more than a Huggies), and we were off to Sange's.

Gorgeous Miss Sange is starting a new business selling the most divine stationery, and we had been invited to her launch. I could have bought everything on the catalogue, however, I value my marriage too much. In retrospect I was quite restrained (yes, my hubby reads my blog. I was restrained, ok??). The kids played in the sunshine, I saw some lovely friends, and a very fun afternoon was had by all.

By the time we arrived home, it was almost dinner time. Considering I had not been home since breakfast, you can imagine what merry hell greeted me. Somehow, the kids were fed, the house was tidied, the washing was done, and some sense of order was restored. I was a blur of activity (amazing, really, considering the world of hurt I am in after two sessions of boot camp. Did I mention that? No? Ouch.)

And only then, did I begin to prepare for my girl's day tomorrow. As Daddy and Jack were out at a boys' night at school, Phoebalina helped me hang the banner and streamers. She chose the colours to be hung, carefully holding the sticky tape and my legs as I stood on a chair ("Be careful, Mumma. I'll hold you, ok?") She stirred the cake batter with a very serious expression, and watched as I poured it into the tin.

After a quiet session of Dora, she was ready for bed. After all, as Daddy had told her, "the quicker you go to sleep, the quicker you are four!" It clearly made sense to her, because off she trotted to bed. (The Mouse had been put to bed earlier, had yelled for half an hour before I relented, grumped around until I put both girls to bed, and then merrily waved "die die!" to me, standing in her cot. Clearly, she needed Phoebe in bed if she was to go to sleep.)

In the morning, my biggest girl will be four years old. It will be such a happy day, with ballet lessons, and a party, friends, family and lots of love. In the midst will be the little girl who will always be the dark-haired, serious-faced, tiny baby who came into my world bringing sunshine and light, no matter how big she gets. I can't wait.