For Lucy

The other day our morning walk took us near a shoe store. I wanted to buzz inside and see if I could find you a pair of white church sandals for the summer. I hesitated only because we were all hungry for breakfast. Your dad offered to pick up the shoes while the rest of us went home to eat, but I insisted on being the one to shop. Like Dad would know your shoe size. I browsed the aisles quickly, found two acceptable pairs, and brought them both home to make a final decision.

Turns out they were both a size and a half too small. What was I thinking? That you were still my tiny girl?

Silly Mom.

This week you turn four.
Did I just say that? Four?
Four is big.

Big enough to climb trees. (Last week when we were playing outside, you tried to scale the trunks of several skinny trees with no success. Finally, I pointed out a small pine with strong and plentiful branches. You managed to get even higher than I thought you would, and it might as well have been Mount Everest, you were so pleased with yourself.)

Big enough to cut with scissors. (You spend, oh, about 60% of every day drawing and then cutting out your artwork. See that little garbage can behind you? Your dad and I spend 60% of every day trying to get you to cut over it.)

Big enough to mother a little brother.(I choose "mother" rather than "boss." The other day you approached Spencer and his pile of toys and asked in a sugary sweet voice, "Spencer, could I have one of your toys?" After a few seconds of silence, you quietly voiced a response for him, "Sure." And then, helping yourself to his toys, you said, "Thank you."

Yes, four is clever. Why, it's down right smart! You love to read, count, cook, create, tell, and listen. You love to learn.

You love to live.

And I love you, my funny little four-year-old.

Last week when Dad was studying late and Spence was asleep, you and I stayed up together for a girl party: ice cream and Cinderella (your first time watching the whole thing!). It felt so good to snuggle you. When the film was finished, I scooped you up in your raspberry cream cheese covered pj's and tucked you into bed. "What was your favorite part of the movie?" I asked. "Happily Ever After," you said.

Of course.
Here's to another year of happily ever after.