Dear Shelby,
Today, we celebrated your fourth birthday. You awoke to a traditional birthday sign and streamers. You smiled and cuddled up in daddy's arms in your pajamas. You opened the gift we wrapped for you. A ruffled black and hot pink skirt with polka dot drawstrings-an item taken from the wardrobe of Madonna in her Can Can Dancing days. When asked if you wanted to try it on, you shook your head and replied, no thank you. Then you dove into the gift in search of something more interesting...only to come up with some purple tissue paper.
You chose your own floral themed outfit for school (pink Hawaiian print skirt, orange floral top, red cowboy boots).
When we walked through the preschool doors, three girls squealed your name and asked you to play with them. You cried when I said goodbye.
I spent the day preparing for your birthday dinner and remembering the moment you entered this world and my life. For dinner, you requested hamburgers and sweet beans. You asked for a strawberry pink cake.
Your sister and I arrived early to pick you up (a first, I'm quite sure) so we could deliver treats to your class. We brought rice krispies and sat on the rug while the teacher talked about the developmental phases during the last four years of your life.
You sat, quietly grinning, twisting your head only slightly to feel the bounce of your yellow curls against your neck and flutter the plastic clip-on earrings daddy gave you this morning. You wore them all day at school.
You picked up your sister's bottle from the floor when she dropped it, and held my hand when we left.
You thoroughly enjoyed your birthday dinner. Opened every present and insisted on wearing the Cinderella gown you received to bed. Before you fell asleep, you told me you didn't have to write a thank-you card to Dougie (our Aussie house guest) for the Halloween Barbie he gave you. I asked why. "Because he's part of our family" you said.
You have a gentle heart and a soft way about you. You can take control of a situation. You love to pee on the beach. You cry when you hear sad music. You have more dance moves than John Travolta. Sometimes you do something wrong and then ask, "Mommy, do you still love me?" You love to be tickled. You apply your own make-up (usually when I'm not looking) and sometimes it looks like this:
I'm honored to know you.
I'm honored to be your mommy.
You rock my world.
Love, Your Mommy
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