Four

Dear Ivy Jane,

Little girl of my heart, oh how I love you!

I cannot comprehend how four years have flown by so quickly, how it can be so long since I first snuggled your tininess into the crook of my arm and it felt like you'd always been there.  When I kiss the top of your head (so tall now!) and breathe you in, you still smell the same and I want to pull you in to my side and curl up for a nap in a sunlit room.

It can't have been four years since those days, can it?

And yet, here you are.  This fully formed person, unique and strong and separate from me, already (confidently) forging your own individual path in the world.  You are absolutely a child, suddenly.  Only a whisper of toddler remains, in the softness of your hands and your round little belly.  The rest of you has turned long and lean, your strong legs coated in blond fuzz and the scuffs and bruises of a child who faces the world head on and without fear.  Your body is strong and solid and capable and as long as you don't think about it too much, you can take on just about anything.  But you are becoming a bit more self-aware, knowing that you should be afraid of some things, playing at a fear of insects, acting the part of a shy child every now and then.  I call you out on it.  You laugh, your eyes two twinkling moons.  You know you are the funniest thing going, and that I cannot resist you.

Ivy, at four years old you are charming and sweet-- when you want to be.  You are tempestuous when you don't get your way, and you have no qualms about taking up arms against your brother.  Yet Nat and I so often say that you are so easy to handle.  Must be the way you take yourself up to your room when you get mad, or willingly march up there when we ask you to, even in the midst of sobs.  We leave you be for five minutes and suddenly you'll emerge, all sunshine again.  Also, on the day of your birthday you never once asked when you would get your presents.  You are able to immerse yourself and find the joy in every moment and it is so easy to make you happy.  You were thrilled to report to me that on your birthday you got to help mow the lawn.  You are pure love, jumping into my arms after work, grabbing my face for a kiss.  You love to prove that you love me more-- to the moon and back to Gram's house and under ground and back up!  You are a mama's girl right now and you take me by the hand and march me along to be with you whenever I am home-- "Mom.  I haf to show you somethin'"  In fact, you march just about everywhere right now, deliberate and confident and hilarious.

My funny girl, I love to talk with you.  I love your take on the world, deliciously literal, perfectly logical, just a touch of magic thrown in.  I want to record everything you say, to keep your funny phrases and the way you say your "l" like a "w" and your deliberate, careful sentence structure.  It is important to you to be understood, and you do a great job of it.  If you don't know a word, you'll describe things to us and the words you use sometimes make more sense than the "correct" ones.  Supplement this with your expressive little face-- and you can always make your feelings known.

Your favorite foods right now include mac-n-cheese, vanilla ice cream and fruit snacks.  You don't like to eat breakfast before 10am, but eat lunch with gusto.  You're following in your brother's footsteps with a love for pepperoni sandwiches.  I think you'd be a more adventurous eater without his influence at meals, because if he makes a face at a new food well then so do you.  But you are certainly developing your own sense of style!  These days you love mixing stripes and dots, and you'd wear tights and a sundress every day if we let you.  You are very opinionated about your choice of shoes.   You also really love this terry-cloth hair drying cap.  "It's what wadies wear, mom."

 You tell stories and make up narratives for your toys and you love to play with collections of tiny dolls or little stuffies, happily acting them out on your own for long stretches of time.  You love playing doctor, making tea and soup in your kitchen and creating families of stuffed animals, as well as dressing up as princesses and having weddings.   I don't know how you've become such a girlie little thing, but there it is.  to your credit, you can hold your own in a game of hero factory, too.  Oh- and you simply love to look at books and to draw and "write".  You like to make letters for people and seal them up in envelopes.  You ask us to "draw dots" for the words you want to write, and you will trace out whole sentences, one shaky-lined letter at a time.  You are drawing a pretty mean stick figure these days, complete with a round body and little spiky hands and varied hairstyles too.   You can write your name, count to 20, and recognize all your letters and sounds.  You love to play with words that rhyme.  You're going to be a word girl like your mama, I hope.

Sometimes I feel like we're just alike, you and me.  Your love for the pretend, the tiny, and the magical resonates with the child I used to be.  I love to watch, a little wistfully, as you step into that world of imagination with such ease.  But there are times when you're a mystery to me, little one.  You are so quick to decide and so light with your emotions, smoothly finding your equilibrium after any little tremors in your life.  At these times I am a little in awe of you.  I hope you never lose that confidence and comfort in your own skin.

Ivy Jane, my little chicken, my magical one, dear daughter of mine.  At four years old you are silly and smart and sweet and kissable, strong and independent and sure.  You are loving and funny and fierce and amazing.  I want to freeze time and keep you just like this, the perfect combination of tiny and grown up, easy to hold and to talk with.   At the same time, I can't wait to see what comes next, what you will grow to be.  The sky is the limit, my girl, and I'll be watching in wonder the whole way.

I could not love you more,

Mommy