Convo #1
Mommy: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Clara: I want to be a GRINCH when I grow up!!!

Convo #2
Mommy: What number is that? (pointing to a 15 on a box)
Clara: Twelve
Mommy: You’re close…
Clara: Horsey!

Convo #3
Clara (eating pickles): Mommy, did that pickle go in my belly… or in my back? 

Convo #4
Clara (skinned her knee and needed a band-aid): Momma, will you be the doctor and I’ll be the cryer?

Convo #5
(Pumba passes gas in the Lion King and daddy laughs)
Clara: Why are you laughing? What was that?
Daddy: It was a toot.
Clara: You or me?

I’m not one to talk when it comes to typos, but this sign was especially hilarious to us (mainly for the obvious pirate reference). The same sign maker had several other correctly spelled directional signs up nearby, so we’re guessing this one was a case of “I’ve written the word sale so many times making these dang signs that my muscle memory took over on this particular attempt at writing yard and I ended it with an e.”

We also made up a hypothetical back story that after exhausting herself making all of the signs, this imaginary woman tasked her husband with hanging them all. He probably noticed the error, but (like we good husbands are known to do) just kept his mouth shut and followed instructions.

It’s definitely a huge difference from this one that we took on the day that we moved in back in 2010.

They grow up so fast. Sniffle.

It’s usually nearly impossible to capture these moments, since she usually stops and smiles as soon as the camera is spotted, but I managed to get a few seconds of it recently when Olivia the pig’s family became trapped under her bathroom stool. Thank goodness the lion was there to check on their well being…

Never have I seen this dog have such focus and determination about one single object.

It’s as if tearing each bone apart is his life’s work. And his legacy is on the line every night.

Perhaps my favorite part of his ritual is how his front paws are forced to be as hand-like as possible. Gripping that thing, doing their darndest to hold it in place.

But hey, as long as he’s happy.

That is, until I step barefoot on a half-eaten stick that he gave up on and it stabs me in the heel.

My little book is mostly newspaper clippings like this…

…but there are a couple pics of young me proudly (bravely?) holding some cicadas.

Then – here comes the kind of gross part – it includes some “preserved” cicada shells. Yep, that’s them just squished in some saran wrap. An entomologist I am not.

Although my preserved wings came out a little bit nicer.

My mom even added a page to the book 17 years later (in 2004, when I was 22) when that brood of cicadas re-emerged. Still got that cicada bravery!

I’m hoping when this cycle comes to Richmond this summer that Clara share a similar fascination and bravery with them. Heck, maybe we’ll make a little book of our own…

After a quick hayride, each kid got a small basket to fill up with any ripe berries they could find.

The trip actually got delayed a week because the strawberries weren’t ripe enough yet. There were still a lot of green berries, but it made the hunt for the red ones more fun. Plus, there were weird mutant ones in there too. Woah.

For Clara the strawberries were really secondary to getting to hang out with her pal Sam.

So it was fun to see their budding friendship with our own eyes.

I mean, c’mon. How cute are they?

They probably would’ve stayed out there all day had we not had a class picnic starting back at the farmhouse.

I’m not sure if this was a “this is so much fun!” and “I don’t want to leave!” face. Either way, it perfectly captured the trip.

And as if the berries weren’t enough, there was straw to play in. Maybe the next field trip could just be to a haystack…

We all enjoyed strawberry smoothies when we got home too. Yum.

As you may have read over on Young House Love, to culminate this year’s photos we again let Clara help design a custom “fabric” for her birthday picture. This time around it meant letting her paint directly on two yards of white cotton fabric.

And as usual, we wanted to share some of our favorite outtakes with you guys. Like this one, where we asked her how old she was going to be. Pretend you don’t see seven of those fingers.

Here’s her Home Alone pose.

There was also a nice amount of marveling at the glorious mess that she made on her shirt.

And a whole lotta swag.

I wish I could remember how exactly this pose happened. Whatever it was, I’m sure it was some mix between dancing and making a dramatic exit. Wait a minute, is this crunking?

We also convinced her to sit down for a few photos (there was no fear of a little paint on the pants at this point).

And apparently no fear of a little paint on the face either.

We also realized (too late) that it would have been cuter sans Crocs, so we snapped a few barefoot pictures at the end…

I know I’m biased but I’m pretty sure she’s the coolest kid on the planet.

 Happy third birthday beansie!

Atta girl.