Letter to the birthday girl
You turned 4 today. Last year when you turned 3 I went and got all mushy. This year I’m just too damn tired. You dear are exhausting. That may be the downside of being really, really grown up when you have your kid, but you keep your father and I entertained, enthralled and amazed. Also? On our toes, we never know what crazy observation you’re going to come out with.
It was a year full of change for you. We moved, you changed daycares twice, you started school, said goodbye to your best friend and had your beloved cousins move to India, all in the space of 4 months. There was a while there where we feared we broke you; where we were ready to turn back time and leave you in your lovely daycare, us in our little house, but then September came, you moved to your current daycare, started school and really hit your stride. I’m sorry we left you in that first new daycare for so long, we were afraid another sudden change would be too hard on you, when really the exclusion and kids’ verbal barbs were so much worse – if only we’d known.
Arts and crafts have to be your greatest passion, and quite frankly I’ve never seen an artist as prolific as you. Basing my assessment solely on the contents of your back-pack every day, I’d have to say you’re working very hard on developing your confetti cutting skills. Glueing is also a new favorite and you aren’t afraid to see just what will stick. We have so far been lucky that you’ve restricted your artistic endeavours to paper, let’s keep it that way for the upcoming year (yes, for the purposes of this letter I’m going to ignore the fact that you coloured your nose red with a dry-erase marker last night).
You have a great imagination and will spend hours playing with your dolls and stuffies, calling them your kids. You love playing teacher, or mommy and daddy. Sometimes I’ll sit in the office at the bottom of the stairs just listening to you go from room to room, calling one home, one work, one school. Drop the kids off, go to work, pick the kids up, have dinner, and repeat. Dressing up is still a favorite, my heels fascinate you and I love seeing you wear your extensive purse collection. Yes, all of them at once.
Ah the purse collection. The best part of these for me is that they weigh a tonne. Why you ask? Because they’re all stuffed with rocks. You can’t step foot outside the door without finding a new favorite, special one.
I love when you take an interest in my hobbies, and although I might drive you nuts with the camera, this fall your new favorite activity is to go on photo walks with me – you suggest it every time we head out for a walk. I’ll gladly turn any walk into a photowalk for you!
You love princesses and BeyBlades, you’ll karate chop us as soon as dance, you’ll help bake cookies and build furniture, your favorite TV shows are Cat in the Hat and Sid the Science Kid, and you know damn well that, ‘girls can like blue and boys can like pink, because there’s no such think as girl colours and boy colours’. When I measured you today you were 106cm, and your occupational goal was ‘princess’.
You have your dad’s sense of humour and will spend hours chasing him around like a maniac, or playing hide and seek. You love being scared and playing practical jokes, and your dad loves teaching you those jokes. Just make sure to keep running them by me first before trying them out at school, okay?
If you could talk us in to it, I’m sure we’d still be eating our meals out on the back deck. You love nothing more than a ploughman’s lunch, much to your father’s chagrin. I am glad that perhaps the only way you take after me is in your taste – you love sushi, ploughman’s, pho – I FINALLY have someone to eat with!
And I love your quirks. When you play in your room at night, you need to line up your books, laying them out in an even grid. Your stuffies are very neatly organized in classroom rows. You say ‘fink’ instead of ‘think’ and ‘a-cause’ instead of ‘because’ and hell to anyone that tries to correct you. Your temper is fierce and you’re not afraid to tell me, ‘mommy, that’s not nice!’ when I try to rush you. You still have never had a haircut, and kick and scream and put up a fight whenever we try to comb out your knotted hair, tossing out the ‘not nice’ judgements freely there too.
Since halloween you’ve developed a serious candy addiction, trying to cram one in your mouth whenever you find them. I really wouldn’t have noticed this except I just discovered you’ve been slowly eating all the candy off the gingerbread train you just built with Auntie Cole. And on a related note, you’ve started chewing gum!
I hope the summer sadness is gone from your heart sweetie, I want it filled with nothing but the happiness and joy of being a four year old. Enjoy the hell out of this year, my little goof ball.
ps- apparently I wasn’t too tired to get mushy after all.