I learned to ride a bike when I was five. I got my very own pet, a little bunny I named Strawberry Plum Curious Banana, when I was five. I learned how to swim and how to read; and when I was five I got my beloved baby doll, Cookie Brenda (I named her too). Five was a special age for me and now you are five years old too.
You have grown from a baby with elf ears and Marshwiggle feet into a graceful little girl who can comfortably hold her baby brother, confidently make a cucumber and tomato salad in the kitchen and tidy up the house with gusto. You can write your name beautifully, are a beloved pen pal to several people and are developing a flair for photography and drawing.
While the melodramatic streak that you debuted at birth is far from absent, you also have an uncanny ability to read people’s emotions and show empathy beyond your mere five years. We have shared conversations that almost had me forgetting I was chatting with a child until you were quickly diverted by a thought about food or a new smell (you enjoy new scents, by the way). You want to be all grown up until you don’t- desiring to be my essential helper and my little girl at the same time. You want to be a support, a big sister and an engaged listener but also nurtured and snuggled and entertained.
What will your memories of this year be? Will you remember learning to read and write? Will you remember your fervent prayers at breakfast or being tucked in tight at bedtime? Will you remember me braiding your hair or playing Elenor with you? Will you fondly recall being Child of the Day or our monthly dates? Will you connect our conversations with the values you will one day claim as your own? I wonder what memories you will cherish that I was unaware of while they were being made.
May your fifth year be the year you determine to love Jesus more than life itself. And may you always know that I will never cease to thank Jesus for gifting me with you as my daughter.