Six

Dear London,

You make me laugh. Your thinking face is adorable. Your trying-a-new-food face is so serious and thoughtful. Your accents are spot on. (You are your daddy's daughter, after all.)

You are such a good big sister. I love how you help your brother when he is hurt. And I like how you offer your favorite toys to Mosely when she cries. You entertain Piper and make her laugh. You love to pick out onesies for Otto and you always want to cuddle with "his face", as you say.

You are obsessed with food. Every night at bedtime the questions are always the same. "What are we eating for breakfast? What are we eating for lunch? What are we eating for dinner?" As soon as you are excused from the table you begin asking for more food.

You are an observer. You closely monitor what Daddy and I do and say and you imitate and question us by turns.

You are about to enter first grade. And yet I can clearly remember your birth, your ducky hair when you awoke from naps as an infant, your first steps, that sweet red dress you wore when you were learning to walk, your first word (dog), your favorite finger food (green beans - Grandma would buy you jars and jars of them), the sound of your new voice experimenting with language ("coooooot" instead of "cute"), your first big girl bed, your love of the Little People videos, your first running shoes, your ever-present buff, how you overcame any sense of shyness after moving to South Carolina. Sigh. I can remember so much. So much London-ness. And I love it all.

Oh Scout. I like watching you grow. I like to play Triominoes with you just like my mom played with me. I like framing your exceptional artwork drawings around our home. I like seeing how you have overcome your fear of Magnus and now you call him your little buddy instead of running from him while screaming. I like dreaming about your future and hanging out with you in your present. I like being your mom.

Happy Birthday Six Year Old.

Love,

Mommy