Five!

Amelia,

Neither my heart nor my head can believe that today, you are 5.

You’ve been counting down the days to your 5^th birthday for at least two months now. You seem to think being 5 is your destiny — although you said just the other day, “I’m weally going to miss being fo-uh. I’m awfully good at it.”

  

Let me tell you what it’s like being your mommy. Have you ever heard someone described as someone else’s “shadow”? Well, THAT’S YOU. You follow me so closely at all times that if I stop quickly, you bump into me. When I go to the bathroom, you follow me and stand at the door. (If I don’t lock it, you come in. If I lock it, you stand there and jiggle the handle, asking if you can come in and/or how long it will be until I come out when am I coming out why am I taking so long I am taking forever I’m never coming out.)

While I put my makeup on in the morning, you sit between my feet on my bathmat. You know my routine so well that if I haven’t moved on to my hair by the time the Today show theme song comes on, you tell me I’m running late. (And you fuss at me if hairspray lands on you, EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE SITTING DIRECTLY BENEATH ME.)

When I leave for my walk every night, you beg to go with me and get a wobbly lip if I say no. I often let you do the first mile with me, because it’s so hard to say no when you’re so desperate to go that you’re willing to walk a mile in princess flipflops because they’re the only shoes you can find, and you come home with a huge blister — but you don’t complain because all you wanted to do was go on a walk with me.

You’ve inherited my love for animals, and you still talk about our cat Scout, who we lost a couple of years ago. You bring him up a couple of times a week even now, and you talk about how you’re going to have 10 cats and 10 dogs when you grow up, and “they’re all going to get along.” That’s why I call you Snow White.

Your very best friend is Bayla Stocks, the dog that lives behind us. You ADORE her to the moon and back, and the feeling is mutual. I’ve told her mommy Rebecca that she can never move, never ever ever, because I don’t know how you and Bayla would go on. (I really don’t.) I’ve never seen a purer love than the love between you and Bay.

Four years and 364 days ago, we’d consumed TRUCKLOADS less baloney and yogurt in this house than we have now. We had far less pink and purple in our lives than we do now. And had nowhere near as much fun as we have now. You complete us.

 

Happy 5^th birthday, baby girl.

I love you,
Mommy