Our Funny, Fearless Nellie Turns Two

Nellie is turning two, and somehow this past year has felt both incredibly full and impossibly fast.

Mostly, it has been funny. And sweet. And full of watching this little person become more fully herself.

A lot of that has happened alongside her big sister, Mina.

Mina has loved Frozen for quite a while and has always declared herself Elsa. Before Nellie could even talk, Mina decided that naturally her little sister must be Anna.

Nellie agrees.

Now she will actually refer to herself as Anna.

So there really could not be a more perfect theme for her second birthday. Nellie will be dressed as Anna, Mina will be Elsa, and somehow a little game her big sister started before Nellie could even say the words has become part of who they are together.

They get along beautifully, although at this age they still often play beside one another more than truly with one another. That doesn’t stop either of them from becoming suddenly fascinated with whatever the other one has.

Then comes the grabbing.

The correcting.

And the reminder that perhaps your sister was actually still using that.

But there is so much laughter between them too. One of their favorite games could probably best be described as WrestleMania. Mina will jump right onto Nellie, and rather than getting upset, Nellie thinks it is absolutely hilarious. She laughs. She squeals. She wants more.

And that laugh. It is so adorable it makes you want to laugh right along with her.

And then there are Mina’s magnetic blocks.

Mina will sit carefully building something, concentrating on her creation.

Nellie watches.

Nellie approaches.

And then...

SMASH.

Down it all comes.

Not because she is angry, and not because she wants to be mean to her sister. Nellie simply finds the entire thing hysterical.

And when she knows she has done something funny, there is no mistaking it. That big, silly, toothy smile spreads across her face, her eyes squint up, those round little cheeks light up, and she looks positively delighted with herself.

You cannot help but laugh, even when you are supposed to be explaining why perhaps we shouldn’t destroy our sister’s carefully constructed masterpiece.

That mischievous joy is so completely Nellie.

For sisters who play together so well, they could not be more different. Their ideas about what is frightening, for one thing, are nothing alike.

I have a little elf doll I made that Mina is absolutely terrified of. Every time she comes over, she makes me hide it.

One day, when the girls were here and Mina spotted it, I became curious. What would Nellie think?

So I carried the elf over to Nellie.

Without the slightest hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed it.

Of course she did. The very doll her big sister wants hidden away receives a kiss.

That is our fearless little Nellie.

"A child does not need to resemble
anyone else to belong. She only needs
the freedom to unfold in her own way."

Lately, we have been seeing even more of that bold personality, because Mina started school.

On the days Mina is at school, Nellie has a little more space without her big sister beside her, and everyone is beginning to notice something adorable happening. What a ham she has become.

I got to see it for myself recently. Her daddy and I were deep in conversation, and Nellie wanted my attention. When she didn’t get it, she didn’t fuss. She picked up her play phone, pretended to call Mac, and carried on an entire conversation of her own while her daddy and I kept talking.

If we weren’t going to be her audience, she would simply create one.

It is as though she has realized the stage is hers. More silliness. More chatter. More performing. And that wonderful little grin that tells you she knows she is entertaining everyone.

I love seeing that side of her emerge. As much as I adore watching the girls together, Nellie deserves those moments when she is simply Nellie.

Not Mina’s little sister.

Not one of “the girls.”

Just this funny, fearless, strong-willed little person who is becoming more herself every day.

And a little person who can find her own audience is not going to wait around for help with anything else, either.

Last spring, Nellie decided she wanted an apple from the kitchen counter. Waiting for an adult, it seemed, was unnecessary.

She went into her daddy’s office, found the little plastic stool he uses to rest his feet, dragged it all the way into the kitchen, climbed onto it, and helped herself to an apple.

All before her mommy even realized she was missing.

That story is pure Nellie. She sees what she wants, figures out what she needs to get there, and gets to work.

That determination has been there from the beginning. In the song I had written for her last year, there was a line about Nellie trying and trying again until she figured something out.

That could not be more true of her now.

If something doesn’t work the first time, she doesn’t simply give up.

She tries again.

And again.

And again.

Until she gets it.

By summer, her boldness was keeping the rest of us on our toes.

She could not understand why she wasn’t allowed to simply walk into my pond. To Nellie, there was water. She wanted to go in it. That seemed perfectly reasonable.

The pool was even worse.

Once I found the right vest for her, keeping her out of the water became the challenge. There was no waiting patiently for Oma to get everything ready. If the pool was there, Nellie was ready to get in.

One morning she even tried to pull the solar cover off herself.

She had plans. And as usual, she saw no reason to wait for an adult to help carry them out.

She may be little, but there is absolutely nothing timid about her.

“May the world never teach her to shrink
the courage that came so naturally to her.”

A girl who knows what she wants has no trouble telling us, either.

When Nellie wants something, she wants it now.

Especially her bottle.

Our little bottle-aholic will march herself right over to the refrigerator, stand there, and demand,

“Bottle! Bottle!”

There is no subtle hinting involved.

And at night, if she wakes and decides she needs one, everyone in the house is going to know about it.

When Nellie was a baby, her mommy used to call her our little banshee because when she was hungry, that tiny little girl could produce a cry that seemed far too big for her body.

Now she has words. So instead of crying, she will simply yell exactly what she wants at the top of her lungs.

“BOTTLE!”

The voice has not gotten any smaller.

It has simply become much more specific.

And honestly, that feels exactly like her. She knows what she wants. She knows how to ask for it. And she has absolutely no concern about whether the rest of us might prefer a slightly quieter request.

Fortunately, that voice has other uses.

Music is something Nellie absolutely loves. Sometimes she will be watching one of her shows, completely content in her own little world, and just start singing along. She doesn’t need anyone watching or encouraging her. She simply sings because she loves the music. And oh, that little voice of hers. There is something so precious about hearing her singing away to herself, completely unaware of how adorable she is.

And if there is music playing, there is a good chance she will be up dancing too.

Although “dancing” in Nellie’s world usually means spinning around and around in circles, with her beloved pink monkey, Daisy, always in her arms. If you tell her, “Tap, tap, tap!” she will stop long enough to get those tiny feet moving too.

Lately she has added another performance to her repertoire.

Monsters.

She has become fascinated with a little cartoon about monsters, and now she wanders around with both arms stretched straight out in front of her saying,

“Mummy... mummy...”

One weekend Mac heard her and thought she was asking for her mommy.

I told him, “No, just watch her.”

And there she went, arms extended, shuffling around and doing her very best mummy impression. Mac got such a kick out of her.

She takes the role very seriously. Well, as seriously as a giggling two-year-old pretending to be a mummy possibly can.

Daisy, of course, goes everywhere. Nellie also likes hiding her in places no stuffed monkey has any business being.

The garbage.

The toilet.

Wherever seems interesting at the moment.

We have learned to keep track of Daisy very carefully.

Nellie is also our little collector. She loves finding little things and carrying them around with her, as though each one has suddenly become important simply because she decided it was.

The other day, it was a rock. She carried it around with Daisy for the entire day.

Something about that little rock made me smile so much that I wrote her name and the date on it and tucked it away to keep.

Someday it will just look like a rock.

But I will remember the little girl who carried it all day because, for whatever reason, she had decided it was a treasure.

And that makes it a treasure to me too.

"Childhood leaves behind the smallest relics—
and somehow they become the things
a heart keeps forever."

For all of that boldness, Nellie has the sweetest heart, and it shows most with her people.

Once she began walking this year, she started greeting me when I came through the door.

At first, her greeting usually involved Daisy. She would toddle over and hand her to me, and I knew exactly what I was expected to do.

I would kiss Daisy.

And Nellie’s whole face would light up. Properly greeting Daisy, it seems, was an important part of Oma arriving.

Lately, though, something has changed. Now she runs to me for a hug.

And because Mina is usually running toward me too, I somehow end up with both little girls wrapped in my arms at once.

There are moments in life that don’t need to be grand to feel sacred.

That is one of mine.

Two little bodies rushing toward me. Four little arms. All that laughter and excitement. And Oma right in the middle of it.

It may be one of the best feelings in the world.

She has always loved a song, too, especially when I make them up about her and sing her whole name.

Nellie Grace.

The moment she realizes the song is about her, she gets so excited. That huge smile appears, the giggles start, and she listens as though Oma has just composed the greatest song ever written.

I sang it so often that Mina started calling her Nellie Grace too.

Then Mina took it one step further. She decided that if her little sister had a middle name like Grace, she should have one as well.

Even now, she will sometimes tell us that her name is Mina Grace.

Those are the little things I know I will remember years from now. Not some grand occasion. Just a little girl laughing because Oma put her name into a song, and her big sister deciding she ought to be a Grace too.

And then there is her Mac.

When she runs to me for a hug now, she says “Oma,” and her very next word is always “Mac?” She seems to wonder where he is every time.

If he isn’t there, I can show her a picture or a video of him, and she will sit looking at it with the biggest smile on her face. And when she does see him, she runs to him for hugs.

It is beyond precious.

There is something so pure about the way a little child loves someone. No hesitation. No holding back. Just complete joy because one of her people has walked into the room.

And Nellie absolutely knows who her people are.

This year also brought Nellie another very important role.

Big sister.

From the very beginning, she was fascinated by Leo. In those first days, she would peek over the side of the bassinet to look at “baby,” because for those first few months, that was simply who he was to her.

She always wanted to be close to him. She would reach into the bassinet to touch him, although at first she didn’t quite understand that her version of affection could be a little enthusiastic.

We quickly discovered something else about Nellie during those early weeks too.

Her heart is incredibly tender.

If we corrected her and told her to be gentle, her feelings would be hurt almost immediately. Her face would fall, the tears would come, and suddenly we were comforting a very sad big sister who had only been trying to love her baby.

So we learned too. Instead of simply telling her what not to do, we found gentler ways to show her how to touch him.

And she learned.

Soon “baby” became “Leo.” And oh, the way she says his name. So sweetly. So adorably.

Just the other day, the two of them were in their sleep sacks, and Leo was lying under his play gym, happily batting at the toys. Nellie squeezed herself right in beside him and started doing the same, laughing the entire time. Leo rolled toward her, and at one point his strong little hand grabbed a fistful of her hair.

She never got upset.

Not once.

She just waited, still giggling, while I gently loosened his grip.

That is who she is with him. She brings him toys. She kisses him. She checks on him. And for the most part, no one needs to remind her to be gentle anymore.

Most beautifully, there has never been jealousy.

Not when someone else is holding him.

Not when he needs to be fed.

Not when attention has to turn toward the baby for a while.

Even after Nellie gave up her pacifier, she never tried to take Leo’s. And Nellie most certainly knows whose bottle belongs to whom. She may very well ask for her own bottle while someone is feeding Leo, because watching another baby drink one reminds her that she too has needs, but she understands that his is his.

For such a little girl, she has handled such a big change with grace.

I don’t think we always give young children enough credit for what becoming an older sibling asks of them.

Suddenly arms that once held only them are holding someone else. Time gets divided differently. The entire rhythm of the family changes.

Yet Nellie simply seems to have opened her world and made room for him.

Watching her become Leo’s big sister has been one of the sweetest parts of watching her become two.

“Perhaps love is partly this:
witnessing someone become
more and more themselves,
and feeling grateful you were there to see it.”

And through all of it, she is still my little ray of sunshine.

Still those bright blue eyes.

Still those blonde curls.

Still that huge laugh coming from such a little body.

She may be short, but no one should mistake that tiny size for a lack of strength.

Nellie is strong.

Strong-bodied.

Strong-willed.

And quite certain she can handle just about anything placed in front of her.

Which is exactly why it means so much when she takes my hand. Little miss independent doesn’t do that often, and when she does, it feels pretty great. I want to remember how special that is.

Happy second birthday, my sweet Nellie Grace.

I hope you always keep that fearless little spirit, that gentle heart, that wonderful sense of humor, and that enormous smile that lights up your whole face.

Keep exploring.

Keep laughing.

Keep trying until you figure it out.

Keep loving your people with that whole beautiful heart of yours.

And whenever Oma starts singing “Nellie Grace,” I hope some part of you always knows that there was never a sweeter name for me to sing.

You will forever be my little ray of sunshine.

With All My Love,

Oma