5. Huh.

I wantd to write this beautiful letter to you on the eve of your 5th birthday, expressing all the wonderment that you are and all that you have accomplished. But you know this, you're you.

I'm the proudest mama there ever was because you're my daughter. The fact that you can make me laugh when you say, "Piriks of da carob bean with dead skillirs*" (which you've never seen, but that doesn't deter your fascination), or that you can add and subtract in your head, or that you pick out boys clothes because there the goodest, has nothing to do with my love for you.

I never imagined being your Mommy would be this. It is harder and scarier than anything Ive ever done, but one random snuggle from you erases any fears I might have had. I thought this whole Baby Thing was about me teaching you How To Be, but it's not. It's about watching you develop into yourself. I'm much more of a supporting role: helping you, loving you, holding your hand.

For as long as you need it.

The helping and the holding, that is. The love is non-negotiable.

Love you to bits,
Mommy

*Pirates of the Caribbean with dead skeletons, just in case you didn't get it.