Five years? Really?

My little Boo,

Today you are 5. You talk excitedly of going to "kin-ter-gar-ten."

Meanwhile, I'm searching for traces of your baby self. Sometimes, when you are sleeping, I still see my infant Tootie ... in the lingering roundness of your cheeks and those curled, little fists.

As a baby, you spent nights pressed against me, content to know the Milk Bar was close by.

Now you lay in your own bed, propped up among your pillows and animals, drawing mermaids in your sketchbook until it's time for the lights to go out.

Often, we come into your bedroom to find that you have fallen asleep with a marker still clutched in one hand, sketchbook open across your lap.

I remember the early days of motherhood, disorienting and hazy, how I focused on just getting through each 2 a.m. feeding. I waited anxiously for each milestone, noting your accomplishments in your baby book and a nursery wall calendar.

Now I'm skidding along on my heels, searching frantically for the pause button.

I take joy in your accomplishments. At the same time, if you want to keep calling the computer a "compooter" -- well, that's just fine with me.









Happy birthday, precious girl.

Love, Mommy