Once, many moons ago, two friends got into a fight on the playground. I cannot for the life of me remember what they were brawling about, but it revolved around a boy and a game of kiss chase and maybe the class parakeet. The parakeet was named Hercules and would eventually get stepped on and lose all his tail feathers. Fifth grade was a brutal place for small aviary pets. But that is neither here nor there. Nor is the kiss chasing with smelly boys just on the cusp of growing strange body hair.
So here’s the deal.
My girl talks a lot. She smiles at strangers. She’s sensitive and cries easily. She really cares if the people around her are happy or laughing and goes out of her way to make that happen. A lot. But the thing is, it’s easy to take all that smiling and laughing and good nature and assume there’s no hard-nosed-Rock-of-Gibraltar level determination underneath. And I’ll be the first one to tell you, the Janester has a lot of grit for a four year old.
Jane turned four last week. I’ll be honest. It hurt my heart a little bit.
When I was pregnant, and when she was very tiny, everyone said to the same thing.
“Enjoy it, it goes so fast.”
Spring is busy. Life is busy. Those trees out there, with their beautiful white buds and spring green pollen coating the world, are making my sinuses busy. And by busy, I mean annihilated. But I’m not too fussed. It’s all so beautiful. It’s all so full of change. After a long winter where everything was gray, and bleak, and frigid, when it felt like nothing would ever change, it’s amazing how quickly everything switches over into beautiful high gear.
*Her own personal breakfast birthday cake, because, of course.
Jane is four today.
She believes in fairies.
She reads to herself late into the night.
She choreographs all her favorite movies and it’s like an off-off-off-off Broadway experience.
When I drop her at daycare she always says, “One more hug and one more kiss!”
She loves all living creatures. We have a lot of discussions about not touching snakes.
She wears a skirt or a tutu over pants. Always
She would eat macaroni and cheese every single day if I let her.
She steals flowers out of neighbor’s flower beds and gives them to me.
“Here,” she says. “This will make you happy.”
She is a little living sun. She spreads her warmth and cheer on everyone close by. I am blessed, over and above anything I could imagine or deserve, to be her mother. Happy birthday Jane. We love you to the moon and back, and back again.
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