Parenting is a different story all together when it comes to your last child. I know we only have two, but the differences are there none the less. With Sweet Marissa, we were constantly watching and cheering for her first every things. We wanted her to be brilliant and talented and more brilliant and talented - and she is. : )Although, if Marissa had come home with a jumproke, I probably would have smiled, but gently corrected her, pulled out the flashcards and spelled it out properly and hoped and fervently prayed she wouldn't enter Kindergarten with a stunted vocabulary.
It seems I am mentally compiling a list of lasts for Princess Maren. I remember the last time she fell asleep on my shoulder (four year old birthday on Lake Okoboji after watching the 4th of July fireworks on Uncle Don's boat) although I remember Marissa's too (Denver airport after a failed stand-by attempt - also four years old) I walk through Target and almost tear up and observe a period of silence and mourning when I pass the toddler girl clothes section.
So, please don't tell Princess Maren about her jumproke. Let's just work that for as long as we can, OK? Thanks.