She’ll be six in a blink. A first grader in the fall. She’s mastered the backhanded compliment. Yesterday I called an end to pool time: A declared me to be the worst. V, on the other hand said, “I don’t think you’re the worst, though you are really mean sometimes.”
She loves to play outdoors. Climb trees. Ride bike. Put her near water – she’ll swim in it. No height is too high, no water too deep, no challenge too intimidating. I have to keep an extra close eye on her simply because she has no lack of confidence in her abilities. She’s assured and fearless in a way the leaves me breathless.
We are currently reading Charlotte’s Web. I’m nervous about how she’ll react to the end but she wants to watch the movie and I told her we had to read the book first. I tend to worry about her for no reason. I love when she asks me to read to her. Or pretends to read. Or shows me what she can read. Those little light switches are just flipping on in a hurry.
She’s tough. She’s tenderhearted. Her love of dresses knows no bounds. She adores her father in a way that makes my heart melt and occassionally roll my eyes (particularly when she follows the above backhanded compliment with “Dad’s not ever mean”).
I have no idea how I am responsible for birthing this beautiful soul into the world, but I thank God that he gave me her. Getting to mother her is one of my biggest blessings.
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