I knew this day would come, but I didn't realize it would be so soon.
In the past six months, you've changed before our eyes. You are taller than my hips now...inches of growth on the outside, miles of growth on the inside.
You don't hesitate to go anywhere anymore. You wave goodbye - confidence glittering from your fingertips.
You use big words to express your big feelings. "I'm disappointed that you said that," you will say.
In the mornings, you choose an outfit, look in the mirror, and say, "Everyone will think I'm ten." Or you ask what I am going to wear so we can match.
We have conversations, you and I. People sometimes say that parents and kids can't be friends, but oh-we-are. The best. I could sit across from you for hours - staring at your picture-perfect face framed with yellow tendrils, listening to your dreams for the future.
At four and a half, you are outgoing and observant. You want to be noticed, cherished, and loved. You are serious about your art. You sings songs about God and the Holy Spirit, creating lyrics and pairing them with an operetta tune.
You like cheese pizza, ice cream cones, watermelon, and plain noodles. You like restaurants, parks, and classical music. You write, draw, and paint - daily. Last night, you asked me if I would teach you how to sew.
It's beginning. I'm needing to let go. You are becoming YOU. And what an articulate, admirable, attractive YOU...you are.
"We'll always be best friends, right?" I asked you yesterday. "Yeah," you said, "But when you get old, don't just sit around and watch TV like some old people do!" I held back laughter, "I promise."
When someone asks you how old you are, you always enunciate clearly, "four AND A HALF." I understand completely why you do. That 1/2 makes all the difference in the world.