Avery,
Five! One one hand! My baby is not a baby. Watching you grow and change has been such a gift, a beautiful and exhausting gift. People are often surprised when you tell them your age (four and a half!). I’m not sure if it’s your height (taller than your brothers were at that age), your speech (you have much to say and you say it with conviction), or your general air. You’re a smart little cookie and a sassy little sister. You don’t need to speak to get your point across, you’ve perfected the eye roll and the facial expressions which let us know just how you’re feeling. But you also have your words. Your vocab has increased a lot in the last year and includes phrases like, “whatevs” and “that’s sick.”
Despite all this, I’m reminded each day that you’re still just a little girl. My first daily reminder comes when you snuggle up in my bed each morning and rub my hair. It’s your happy place, and mine too. I even sometimes pretend to not know that you’re sucking your thumb while you do it, because it feels so good (to me and to you). You’ve always been my little sidekick, my all-time shadow, and that couldn’t be truer now. You haven’t been to preschool since March due to COVID-19. Some (many) days I wish for a little break and a little separation, but I remind myself that you’re only going to be little once and one day you won’t want to shadow me each day. And you’re a helpful shadow! You’re quick to help me fold clothes, make a meal, and generally assist. You’re also just great to talk to. You have great insights, ask smart questions, and you make me laugh, sometimes intentionally and other times not.
I asked you today what you thought the best thing about being 5 would be. You pondered and said, “Being closer to 6.” Then you paused and in dramatic fashion, said, “I mean I’m waaaay closer to 6.”
Slow down my dear Avery. Six can wait. One hand at a time.
Love,
Mom
