Liddy Number Three.

Lydia is EVERYWHERE. ALL THE TIME. The girl is brave and, bless her heart, clumsy. She goes into everything full-force, whether it's taking a bite of food or lunging for a toy or jumping in for a hug. Her little forehead is always bruised, thanks to her head-first collisions with the floor, a table, a toy, one of our heads, etc. But nothing stops her. She just keeps toddling on. We practice holding hands as much as possible (like when we pick big brother up from school) and she's learning the good ol' "Come to Mama" command that has already come in handy in public places. But, already, I can see Lydia's personality differing slightly from her older siblings. Both of her older sibs vary on the compliance list, but would be considered compliant, in my opinion. Lydia is learning obedience and all that jazz, but there's something about her that makes us realize that, well, she's the third. The baby. And in her life, her primary goal will be to keep up with her big brother and her big sister. Oh, bless her heart, she thinks she's BIG. And therefore tries to do what the others do, and doesn't exactly love taking "no" for an answer.

Baby's a pistol.

Her spunk and sunshine make her delightfully refreshing. Seriously, this girl is radiant when she smiles. But, at the drop of a hat, she'll plunk on the ground with a full-force wail, with me staring at her, quietly wringing my hands in worry, wondering what in the world to do. I'll just say this now:

Neither of my older kids have been full-blown fit-throwers.

They just aren't. I don't know why. Don't get me wrong--they pout and they'll fuss if something in particular doesn't go their way, but it's typically resolved quickly with a stern word from me. This means nothing except that my children just have two distinct personalities: The obedient firstborn son and the pleaser firstborn daughter.

And then ... Baby Lydia.

The pistol.

She's very, well, LOUD. She hollers when she's happy. She hollers when she's upset. And while Naomi was our spunky baby, she mellowed out as a toddler, but Lyds, well, hollers. Like I said, she goes into everything full-force (and without much grace, like ME) and that includes her volume level. Her speaking voice is sweet and raspy and low, but man, you get that girl happy and the hollering commences. She loves just as intensely as she gets upset. Wild and free, is our Liddy B.

All that to say, it will be interesting to navigate the toddler waters with this one. I'm trying to nip things in the bud as I see them happen, but, let's be honest--I have two others who require attention, too, and I know there are things Lydia does that fly under the radar. I've heard before that third-borns (especially if they are last-borns) are easygoing ... and spoiled. And now, I get it. Easygoing because they just have to go with the flow. I mean, seriously--when she's a happy camper, which is honestly most of the time, she's a breeze. But spoiled because, well, she's the BABY! BAAAABBBYY!! And, I know, it's too early to really judge what these next few years will look like. But, from our experience already, with Lydia there is a lot of laughter and joy ... and a lot of stern reproof. Baby keeps us on our toes.

Sugar and spice. Our Liddy.

My musings for this rainy Thursday.

Have a lovely day!