To My Almost-Four-Year-Old

 The other night I stood hiding in the dining room as you and your Daddy were in the kitchen. He was teaching you how to say "yellow" instead of "lellow". And I heard the transformation in your voice as you worked hard on that first consonant and put it together and sweetie, my heart was silently yelling, "No! Don't leave the lellows behind!" because I knew, I just knew, that you are growing up. And it is beautiful, but it is also inevitable, and that just tears my mama-heart in two a little bit.

You are beautiful. You are my precious gift from God. You melt my heart when you say, "Mommy, guess how many hugs I have inside of me today??? Forty and a half!" Or when you come up and scratch my back and say, "Does that feel good, Mama?" "Mmm hmmm, it does, thank you." And you smile and say, "I thought it would."

I love to listen to you pray. You talk to God on your own now, without being prompted, and I hope you are always so genuine in your prayers as you are right now.

You are learning to think true thoughts. A couple of weeks ago you told me over breakfast, "I was getting a little bit scared last night and I prayed to God to help me not be scared and then I tried to think of good things like parrots." I'm not exactly sure if parrots fit into Philippians 4:8 but I think you're at least headed in the right direction.

You are a great helper and you love to be useful, especially to your Daddy when he is working in the yard or on the car. You are learning how to play the piano and you still love to read (or rather, be read to!) as much as ever. You always, always ask for "just one more story." You love music, you love to sing and dance, and either your daddy or I still play the guitar and sing to you every night.

You are tender and vulnerable. We tried to watch 101 Dalmatians last week as a family but Daddy ended up having to fast forward through about 3/4 of it because of your tears every time the music turned dramatic. You love your sister to death. You are always concerned about her when she is hurt or sad (even though, let's be honest, about 74% of the time you were probably the instigator of her tears.) But still. You are so so sweet and such a good big sister.

Four feels like a long way from three. It feels a lot bigger. But every time I get sentimental about you getting so big, you look at me and smile and say, "Don't worry mommy, I'll always be your little girl."

Yes. Yes, you will.

I love you my sweet four year old!