Well, we officially have a first grader:
and a 6 year old:living in our house now.
Leading the pack. Reading all the books.
Getting her hair cut (by Mama) so that she suddenly looks 16 instead of 6.
Also, she got a real purse and a real wallet for her birthday. So, her favorite thing to do is walk around the house wearing both saying, “I look like a teenager. I look 18. Teenagers have real purses and real money. I’m a teenager now, Mom.”
She doesn’t know how much I already feel that. Feel that time travel. It’s a bizarre sensation, to see your child’s life flash forward. One that is both exhilarating (She’ll be a teenager! She’ll be a grown up! She’ll make her own choices and go her own way!) and depressing (She’ll move away! She’ll tell her friends things instead of me! She’ll make hard choices…).
For now, purse and comments aside, I stick to the present. She’s six. She loves legos and books and giving me hugs. She wants to help me make dinner and pick flowers from the front yard. She encourages Lucia to write her letters and cuddles with Dom. She feels my belly kick and prays for her Baby Sister every day (yes! We’re having another girl! We get to raise Elder girls in triplicate, as Andy happily declared!).
She still doesn’t like intense parts of movies, especially when coupled with dramatic music (“Cover your eyes, Mo. This is scary!” warns Lulu). That’s in large part to her great auditory memory. She can hear a song once and sing it accurately a week later. She’s constantly getting smiles a Mass for her boisterous “Amen!s” and enthusiastic singing.
She’d rather release a spider than smash it, and she’s often overwhelmed by the breadth of knowledge in the world. She was recently brought to tears because she befriended a worm, then placed it next to some ants. The ants started to eat the worm, because, well: nature… and she sat there paralyzed and sobbing, “I didn’t know they would eat the worm! There’s so much I don’t know!” After I washed the worm off and returned it to a (different) dirt patch, I held her, stroking her head. We chatted about the circle of life, and how it’s ok to not know everything. And, yes, sometimes the things we don’t know hurt people or creatures. But that is why it’s important to keep learning and investigating.
She’s always talking about becoming a scientist, or a doctor, or a mom, or a teacher, or a (insert other adult job that touches her life). And I am humbled.
Humbled by her love of discovery, her confidence in the future, and her recognition of those areas of knowledge she lacks… I may be five times her age, but I think sometimes her wisdom (and definitely her compassion) far outrank my own.
Thank you for making me a mother. Thank you for loving me and teaching me how to love. Thank you for your help, for your hugs, for “Mommy, are you ok?” and all your other genuine questions. Five was great; I think six is going to be even better. You’re blazing the trail for the rest of this crazy brood, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.
Love you. So much.