Today you are Six.
You have a gap-tooth grin that makes me squiggle with pent-up love every time I see it. It is a grin of impish delight.
You are skinny as a beanpole and smart as a whip.
You can out logic me in the blink of an eye.
You are so generous and caring to the world around you. It is not uncommon for a grown-up to tell me something wonderful about something you did to help someone else.
Your baby bassinet overflows with stuffed animals. They are your first loves. And many of them still travel with you on your adventures to school, the grocery store, friends houses, and the lawn.
You love to roll your eyes at me. And when you do, I can see the rose-bud mouth of my newborn co-mingled with the some-day eyes of my teenager. It is thrilling, and irritating.
You rode a roller coaster three times in a row. You never cracked a smile, determined to conquer the thrill like a knight faces her dragon. Then, as soon as your foot hit the exit ramp, your face split in a wide grin and you begged for another ride.
You take showers all by yourself. And then you leave a long puddle down the hall way as you drip your way to find me, wrapped in a towel that is already too damp to do any good.
You and I sing together in the many long car rides back and forth to Dada’s. but we don’t sing just any songs. We make up tunes about what we see, hear, and imagine. We sing duets and solos, squealing mimicries and deep ocean rolling hums. You have rhythm, and naturally sing in choruses and refrains. You harmonize and keep tempo without even trying. It just sounds good, so you do it. Like the day so many years ago when you bounced to the rhythm of the wash machine in your diaper.
You astound me. I am so proud to be your Mama.
I love you. Happy Sixth Birthday, Child of my Heart.