My Miss June

Dear Miss June Belle,

Soon you will be three years old…in just seven short weeks. How did that happen with such brevity? I swear it took three years to get through your pregnancy! You were a late baby, almost two weeks.

You are now most definitely a little spitfire with a huge personality.


You call your older sister & brother “my friends” & tag along after them like you were a big kid, too.


Being almost six years younger than your closest sibling, however, makes you mama’s little buddy. You wear everything I knit with little to no protest. I love hearing you ask, “Whatcha knittin’ mama?” as I stitch away at another item for {invariably} you, my biggest fan.


“I made this fer ya!” is a common refrain as you tinker in your play kitchen, cooking atop a kid-sized hutch made by your great-grandfather for your dear aunt Denise, Daddy’s sister, who will never get to meet you in this space & time.


You do NOT like your hair combed nor styled {but you’re a rockstar when you get your hair cut}.

You do NOT like your teeth brushed {but you’re perfect at the dentist}.


You love to collect your blankies at the end of the day & always know when one is being washed missing.

You can recognize Blue Jays and Cardinals, you’re close on Downy woodpeckers.


You LOVE your Papa Jerrys {they’re both named Jerry, isn’t that awesome?!} and always want to know when they’re coming “home” {you think everyone lives at our house & just goes away on vacation, destined to return soon}.

You know how to touch your forehead to mine & rock it back & forth whispering “buzza buzza” like my Dad & I used to do when I was little. It kills me every.time.


“Moosgit” {music} is in your soul, you crave it. You would like to live at your Symphony School music class with your teacher Ms. Leah {who lives at Target because we saw her there once}.


Everyone & everything has a mama in your world & needs to be with its mama–the laundry basket is the bathroom step stool’s mama, the large lotion bottle is the mama to all the smaller ones, every bird that visits our feeders needs to find its eggs. Such truth.


You don’t acknowledge a single color or letter or word {you are, in your own words, a “stinker butt” in the academics department}, but your vast vocabulary tells me you’re just like your brother–it will all click in an instant as soon as you’re ready & you’ll zoom ahead to where you need to be {& then some if you’re truly your brother}.

Your favorite book is currently “Green Eggs & Ham,” the copy I had when I was your age, given to me by your namesake, my paternal grandmother, Mary Belle {Richeson McAllister} Ingram.


Your favorite food is probably snow, followed by peas cooked in cream with salt & pepper. Chocolate is a close third.

Your eyes are BLUE. Your lips are RED.

Who would we all be without you? It took a lot to bring you here, Miss Junebug. Merritt told me the other day “we lost two babies to bring June here, so she’s actually really special, Mom.” So true. I forget that sometimes when you’re hitting your brother on the head or running around the house screaming bloody murder or demanding ANOTHER chocolate–“just one tiny one, Mama.”

The brevity of life takes & will take the breath from all of us. Incredible how quick it skips along.

I love you, June Belle. Stay two just a wee bit longer, ok?

Love, Mama

P.S. PLEASE learn to use the potty for both 1 & 2 before kindergarten. xoxo

Cap is June Belle raveled here. Dress is Bulle raveled here.


3 thoughts on “My Miss June

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