dear claire.

Today you are six.  The only motorcycle I want to see you on the back of is this one.  And only when it is safely parked in your dad's shop.  I love that you still want to live across the street when you grow up.  I love that you've revised your original plan of having 100 babies and decided that 3 is plenty.  I've loved watching you come out of your shell at school and bounce into the classroom with a wave.

You have made huge strides this year, girlie.  You read.  You've introduced me to Junie B. and I've shared Ramona Quimby with you and now we're reading Charlotte's Web. Watching words come alive to you is magic.

Since you were tiny, you have helped me in the kitchen.  Now, when you help you call yourself the Shoe Chef.  Last night, you set the table.  Then you looked at me and said, "I'll never be five again."  My head knows all of this, but the heart sees you as every age you've ever been.  And I'm in no rush for you to grow up and out, even if you do just move across the street.

I love you, girlie.
Love,
Mama