Dear Mimi:
It seems like such a cliche, but it’s true: These past four years have flown by. Actually, a blur would be more accurate. One minute, you were curled in my arms, this sleepy, sweet, pink little bundle. The next, you were singing along to Taylor Swift and talking about hair products and shrieking with delight when I announce we’re going shopping.
Although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You have always seemed older than your years. Precocious, some would say. Or, as a friend pointed out when you were still a baby, an old soul, because the things you say, the way you see and interpret the world and just seem to pick up on things are far more grown-up and perceptive than what you’d expect from a 4-year-old.
I love how much you enjoy music, from bobbing your head along to songs in the car to making up your own songs in the bathtub and at bedtime to strumming along on Daddy’s ukulele (often while singing).
I love your wild imagination…even though it terrifies me a bit, too. Because you can look me straight in the eye and tell me the tallest tale like you were recounting a story of something that happened at school (like about Lady Lambada or how you stole my car the previous night and picked up Alexandra to drive to Boston).
I love that while you walk around with the air of an older girl, there are still things that clearly show your age, like how you call Rice Krispies “Ricy Krispies” and when you recite the alphabet, you combine I and J into one letter called “J-eye”.
I love that–just like your brother–you enjoy talking to grown-ups. The texts that your friends’ moms send me from daycare drop-off with the funny and sassy things you say always make me smile.
I love that, to this day, you are always so willing to help out (well, except when it comes to picking up your toys). But I know I can always count on you to help unload the groceries or sort the laundry or be the teacher’s helper in class.
I love that you pick me flowers and find the beauty in the dandelions and buttercups, and how you always seem to tell me I look beautiful on the days when I feel anything but.
I love that you believe in the magic of the world. Never stop believing.
I love that you are developing your own interests, like gymnastics, and that you adore playing outside and riding bikes—actually, far more than your brother does.
I love that you still request cuddles each night and tiptoe into our room in the morning for a snuggle with Daddy.
I love how you find so much joy and wonder in the world around you, from the inchworms you study in the backyard to your pink painted fingernails.
And while I suspect I may feel differently in about ten years, I love your feisty nature, your independence, your passion when you find something that you want, and–yes–even your stubbornness, because having determination and a strong voice and the ability to feel deeply about things will serve you well in life.
Of course, part of me wishes I could keep you this little forever, to live enveloped by your cuddles and giggles and hugs and childlike wonder. But then I’d miss out on the amazing and incredible person–woman–I know you will become, and I want that front row seat to watch you stride confidently into this world.
And just because I’m a sap, I have to say that being your mom (and your brother’s) is one of life’s greatest joys and I thank my lucky stars every day that I have the privilege of being your mom.
Happy birthday to my “Mimi,” my pre-K girl, my cuddle-bug.
XOXO,
Mommy
Auntie heanne says
Love all you written about your Mimi. So special.