When you woke up Sunday, you were sullen, loud, and refused to poop (or pee) in the potty. You wore a 3T dress that looked like the "before" outfit on an "after" body. Your vocabulary consisted of "no," "mine," and the ever-used "Sydney no touch my..." followed by your held out hand in your sister's face. In short, you were two again. And I wasn't happy with that either.
Sorry I want your age to be whatever is most convenient (and least emotionally taxing) for me. It's a good thing I'm not in charge of your mood or my sanctification would be much slower. I just want you to know that I love you very much - sick or healthy, two or "three"- and you feel free to grow and develop at the rate God has set out for you. That's what you're going to do anyway. :)
Oh, and that unsolicited kiss you blew to me and your daddy when we left your room just about knocked us both over. I really thought I was going to hit the floor when my knees buckled. I think Daddy said it best, "The answer to your question is no. She could not possibly be cuter."