You are killing me. FOUR? You’re my baby and you’re getting big and I don’t know how to deal with it.
I always knew you’d be our last baby. We were settled on two, and I would never turn you into a weird middle child. And because I knew you were my baby, you were treated like my baby. Still are if I’m being honest. Daddy just carried you upstairs tonight, like a baby, at your request. Elizabeth asked if I would carry her and I said no. And I told her to run or I was going to bite her. Remember that if you ever think you aren’t treated well.
In the last year you’ve changed so much. Outsiders may not notice, but I do. You were just a toddler for so long. And then you started observing, commenting and taking part in your life. Watching you play is amazing. You have such an affection for stuffed animals, a.k.a. your buddies. You set them up for picnics, line them along the couch to watch a movie with you and sleep with just shy of 84 of them. You feel for them and treat them like friends. It’s beautiful to watch your compassion at work. I’m calling it now, you’re going to be a vet. Or a zoo keeper.
Your communication has drastically improved, too. You’ve been in speech therapy for the better part of the year. I was worried after too many people said “What did she say?” while talking to you, so I called to have you assessed. Turns out, there wasn’t that much to worry about. And after these few sessions ended, you were given the all clear to keep confusing people when you get excited and squeek.
Your rapid aging was brought into the foreground when I filled out the forms to enroll you in junior kindergarten. You start in September, and that is when the dynamic duo will be forever separated. You’ll be off at school, and I’ll hopefully be napping and day-drinking. Just kidding, mostly. I worry about how you’ll deal with other kids who are more outgoing while you’re so shy, or if you’ll make it through a whole day without falling asleep in the cozy corner. My little girl is going to big school. I already made Daddy book the day off work so I don’t have to walk home along. Crying and all alone.
Stay funny, stay cute, and never grow up. And know that I love you more today than I did yesterday.