you.

You are slow to warm. This morning in the park a little girl told you her name. You said yours as fast as you could and then jetted down the pole in attempt to avoid conversation. I suggested you ask her name so you could make friends. Your answer, "I don't really want to be friends, Mom." You get frustrated when things don't go perfectly. You can't roll with it. You need order. You like structure. Waiting is impossible for you. You like it when we wear matching dresses.

You are the child who made me a mama. Sweetness and stubbornness and both of us wrapped up in a smile that's missing a front tooth.

Your teacher told me this week that you light up a room. Indeed, you do. You blaze through math packets and reading work. You love learning. You want the other kids to love it as much as you do. I asked you recently if you had any goals for the summer. You said you'd like to learn some magic tricks.

Your teacher is right. You light up a room, sister.