...until the Disney Cruise.

So, Mia turned three this week.

Now, although my dream of the three year old transformation did not go off exactly as I'd planned...something did seem to shift this week.

As I watched my sweet little Moo greet her guests at her fancy tea party, help pass out cupcakes, play with her friends and the babydolls that they all brought, and finally thank each friend for coming to her party...an unexpected thing happened. I kept getting choked up.

Okay, I know what you're thinking, people who know me,

"...unexpected?"

For those of you who don't know me...I cry. I cry a lot. Sappy movies, not so sappy movies, the Olympics, the end of every book I ever read, Publix commercials, Maxwell House commercials, Hallmark commercials, my brother's movie blog...I cry. (It's endearing, no?)

But it was unexpected on this day, because it was a tea party with a bunch of screaming three year olds running around. It wasn't even on Mia's actual birthday...she was, in fact, still two.

But she seemed a little taller, her face looked a little older, she had funny conversations with her friends, and didn't seem to need me so much. Suddenly I understood what mothers mean when they start to imagine their child going off to college the first time they take a step. She's growing up.

For her birthday Mia got a scooter from her Abuelo. It's hot pink with streamers and pictures of Disney Princesses on it. The other day, Jenn told me that when Mia woke up from her nap, she wanted to go to the park, and that I could take her on her scooter. Easy enough.

So I got Mia up from her nap, put her tennis shoes on, and strapped her new helmet to her head. Ready to go.

Now, it's funny that this thought never occurred to me...but three year olds don't know how to ride a scooter.

It took twenty minutes for us to get to the next door neighbors' driveway.

So finally, because it was now almost dinner time, I told her to hold on, and I started to pull her using the handlebars. Please keep in mind that I had a 16 lb. 9 month old strapped to my chest in the Baby Bjorn, and the scooter is built for a three year old, so in order to take hold of the handlebars I had to bend over at a 90 degree angle. Keep that image in your head for the next 6 blocks to the park and you might start to feel what I was feeling.

So I'm a little ticked off. (Oh, and when we got to the park one of the mother's said, "Oh! Your baby's thrown up on you!" Yeah.) But when we got to the park, I could tell that Mia was a little frustrated as she tried to kick her little leg and make the scooter go on her own.

"You know, Mia, you'll get the hang of it. You just have to practice, that's all."

She looked up at me from underneath her little helmet and said, "That's alright, Brooksie, scootin's just fine by me..."

First, I laughed, and then (I know) got choked up again.

When I first brought Mia to the park, she was 18 months old. She only swang in the baby swings and she only really talked when I asked her what a cow or a doggy said. Now, scootin's just fine by her? What happened in the last 18 months?

It's been such a privilege to be a part of this little girl's life, to be a part of her whole family's life. Most days I feel guilty that I even get paid to do this. (Not that guilty, though, so don't get any ideas John-Paul.)

So, my baby's growing up, scootin' through her fourth year of life, and I bring you this sentimental post from a cry-at-the-drop-of-a-hat nanny this week because next week...we are all embarking on a Disney Cruise together. And I, Brooksie, will be sharing a room with Mia.

So stay tuned for next week and what may be a post that has a significantly smaller amount of sentiment.

Anchors away.