My wild, wonderful, big-hearted, strong willed girl,
Yesterday you turned four. You looked at your hands with disappointment when you woke up, looked at me, and said, “They’re still little.”
And you are still little, in many ways. You’re bigger than you realize, though. There is no baby left in you anymore, not even when you sleep at night. You had told us all year that you would stop sucking your thumb when you started kindergarten, and you did just that. Now, when I peek in on you, wrapped up in the blankets on your loft bed, your hands stay off to the side and you sleep without that crutch that carried you through babyhood and toddlerhood. Your body is strong and lean and fast and your brain, and your mouth, and your ideas are strong and fast too.
Your personality is also big. It always has been, but in the past year it has exploded off the pages of your book of life, and you are a wonder to behold. When I go out without you and people recognize me as your mom I hear stories about you, all about the stories you tell people, the quotable phrases that sprout from your vivid imagination. “You could make a book from what she says” is something I hear often.
Amidst your vivaciousness there is tenderness. When you aren’t whaling on your brother you’re hugging him and telling him knock knock jokes to make him laugh, because when you laugh, he laughs. Picking you up from school is one of the best parts of both of your days, I think, because you’re reunited and that makes both of you happy.
From a three year old to a four year old you’ve done and said a lot but I think the biggest shift has been to your role as big sister. You love to take care of A and are quite insistent that you can do things for him yourself (you’ve tried to change his diaper on your own!). You two have forged your own friendship, and your own Baby Band, and I hope you always love each other this much, because it’s where you truly shine.
You are a delight. And you are going to harness the world.