To Stella, 5 1/2

 

No one loves a half birthday more than you. You had a big countdown leading up to your half birthday in which you would tell anyone who asked your age exactly how many days it was until you were 5 1/2. Well, Happy Half Birthday, Little One and can you please stop growing up now?

 

Seriously, I LOVE having a 5 1/2 year old or, I should say, YOU as a 5 1/2 year old because you are truly one of a kind. Although your American Girl Doll -- with the light blonde hair and the "chocolate" eyes does look remarkably like you.

Speaking of chocolate eyes, a few months ago you were bummed out that your eyes were brown, "the worst color". Someone in school, I think, said that brown was the worst color because it was the color of poop. I vehemently disagreed and told you about some of the things I love that are brown, including chocolate. From then on, whenever you would talk about your eyes, you would call them "chocolate" rather than brown.

No doubt this letter, like most of them, will note your amazingness. In an effort to be comprehensive, I should note that you are not perfect (phew). For example, you are sometimes not the most awesome sharer, in part because you don't want other people to have what you have, be it a certain silly band or a chocolate chip cookie. For this reason (I think) you have not wanted to have playdates in our apartment very much. Oh, also you are extremely organized and neat and you are terrified that your friends will mess up your stuff and won't put things away where they belong. So even though I assure you that I will help you clean everything, you are really reluctant to have people over.

We were in San Diego for your actual half birthday and we had a great time visiting Lego Land and the San Diego Zoo. But in a way, my favorite day of all was one where we just went to Whole Foods and brought our groceries home and had lunch and went to a local playground. I can't explain exactly what was so fun. You were excited to pick out different things from the bulk bins and then to write their numbers down for the check-out person. You are just so grown up and so delighted to do grown up, independent things. One night at dinner, for example, you went to the bathroom in the restaurant by yourself. And later you told me, "Mom, I was really proud that I went to the bathroom alone." You are just so interestingly caught in this place of kind of grown up and still very much a kid. You don't make as many cute mistakes as you used to but you still say lots of really incredible things. When we were on the plane flying out to San Diego, you were very excited about take-off. After a bit of looking out the window, you turned to me and said, "Look, Mommy, the clouds are moving so fast!" It blew your mind to learn that it was really the plane that was moving fast, not the clouds. On the plane you watched the Y video from last year 5 1/2 times (until the batteries on your dvd player wore out). You just love your school so much. You have already let us know that Vivian should definitely attend the Y because it will be a great school for her.

 

Lego Land was really fun. They had a ride where you got to drive a car and then get a drivers license. You loved your license so much and later, when we were home, you made one for Vivian so she would not feel left out.

When we first got to San Diego, Daddy told us that there was a Sprinkles cupcake store right near the theater. The very mention of the word cupcakes was quite exciting to you. We went and waited on the twenty minute line and brought home some delicious treats. You decided that you definitely wanted to have another cupcake on your birthday and you were very happy when it materialized. There was also a great frozen yogurt store near our house where you got to pull the lever to get your own yogurt and then go to the toppings bar to put on sprinkles, etc. yourself. You declared this the world's greatest ice cream store. You have a true appreciation for food -- and not just desserts. There was also a cute little restaurant in town where you got to make your own pizza with the chef.

 

You were an unbelievably great traveler. You helped me out by pulling your own suitcase and just being super cooperative when I needed you to be. I was a little bit nervous about traveling cross country as the sole grown-up with two kids but you made it pretty easy. There was a short time on the plane ride out where you freaked out, desperate to get off the plane. Also you spilled orange juice all over yourself and your seat and I realized that I had foolishly only brought extra clothes for Vivian. But you were pretty mature about it and didn't make me feel like the worst mommy ever.

One bad thing happened to us in San Diego. We had a great day at Bilboa Park -- going to a costume museum and having lunch and playing by the fountain. When it was time to go home, we decided to take a quick visit to a playground and found a great one with this super tall, scary thing for you to climb. You had so much fun you really wanted to stay longer. Eventually (after maybe 20 minutes), we agreed it was time to go because we had to pick Daddy up from work. We walked back to our car and got Vivian into her carseat. You really liked to enter the car from the front seat and then climb to the back. I was about to open the passenger side door for you when I realized that our window had been smashed. We were both very shocked by this. Then a moment later, I remembered that I had (foolishly) left my bag on the seat. Naturally, it was gone. I got very upset which caused you to get very upset. You wanted me to call the police and call Daddy (both of which I did). The police were not able to help because we didn't have a physical description of the perpetrator. Daddy was not able to help because he didn't answer his phone. Eventually, we got in the car and drove to the theater. We agreed that it was good no one got hurt. We reached Grandma on the phone and she was very reassuring. When we got to the theater, Daddy took care of everything (and you had a great time hanging out in the production office making buttons!). I had been planning to go see Daddy's show that night but we canceled the babysitter because it didn't seem like a good idea to leave you. You supported this by telling me that you might be scared later. That night as I was tucking you into bed, you excitedly told me, "Mommy, now I have my own bad story". Although a little part of me was sad that at only 5 1/2 you already have a bad story, I thought that was a pretty outcome for the whole ordeal. (I should backtrack and mention that for awhile now, you have been obsessed with hearing bad stories. This is a challenge for me because I don't have that many traumatic events from my past that are bad enough to satisfy you but not so bad that they might cause irreparable psychological damage if I shared them. Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Steven, etc. etc. have all told you their bad stories too. So the fact that now you have your own really is probably pretty cool for you.)

When we were in Atlanta, you invented a game you call "Laundry Basket" which entailed filling Vivian's pack and play with lots of blankets, pillows, etc. and pretending it was the laundry basket from Annie in which the little orphan girl escapes the orphanage. You loved to sing "It's a hard 'nuff life" and then do a flip into the laundry basket and then get Vivian in there to be Molly and then have me or Dad be Miss Hannagan or Mr. Bundles. You would feed us all of our lines and just have a great time. The best part, of course, was hearing you sing the last line of the song -- "No More Hard 'Nuff Life" at the top of your lungs -- and then do your flip and get covered up by blankets. You LOVE doing this. When we got home, you started playing in Vivian's crib which does not allow you to flip in in the same way but you and Vivian seem to have a great time anyway playing with all the blankets and pillows filling her crib. This is probably not amazing for her sleeping (I'm sure there is a theory somewhere about cribs being for sleep rather than play) but we let you do it anyway. You love to grab the comforter from off our bed (thankfully you always ask permission before doing so) and then giving Vivian a ride by pulling her on it. She LOVES this. And then off you go. Laundry Basket.

You really still are the world's greatest pretend player. You told me recently that one of the things you love about going to Grandma and Grandpa's house is that they have great pretend over there -- specifically, I think you mean the big cardboard with which you can make a house. And Grandpa. Who is ever willing to be Dr. Goldberg. Or your husband. Or I'm sure a million other characters that spring from your elaborate and masterful imagination.

You ask really great questions and make super interesting observations all the time. You are also really smart. We were talking about inventions (you are very eager to invent something and frequently remark that you have done just that when, for example, you "invent" eating spinach with mint jelly) and writers coming up with stories. You remarked that no one invented Cinderella because everyone knows that story. I kind of explained fairytales to you and in the course of the conversation, we started talking about Into the Woods. I said that that the man who wrote that was looking at lots of different fairytales -- Cinderella, The Baker's Wife, Jack and the Beanstalk, Rapunzel, etc. and he thought to himself, "What do all these stories have in common?" and you replied, "The woods!" I was amazed that you really got what I was saying. It reminds me of this summer when Grandpa said you were like a thirteen year old brain stuck in a four year old body. Grandma asked if you knew what that meant and you said "yes, I'm really smart." You do just get things. I sometimes almost forget that, in fact, you are only 5.

One morning I was making your lunch and I told you that it was the last day of the week that I was going to make your lunch and you answered, "Yup. Thursday. Friday. You got to stick with the flow."

Before we went away, Vivian got really sick with what may have been pneumonia. She stopped eating and was completely miserable with the worst cough and a high fever. One night you went to Grandma and Grandpa's for a sleepover and the next day, Grandma brought you home in the afternoon and hung out at our house so I could run out to the gym. When I got home, you were kind of restless so I asked Grandma if she would stay a little longer so that I could go to the playground with you. We went to Hippo and had such fun even though the playground was largely covered with snow and it was a bit cold. We ran around and played for about thirty minutes and then skipped home. It was such fun for both of us -- especially after not seeing each other for a day or so. When we were in the elevator on the way back up to our apartment, we were both quiet as the elevator began its ascent. Suddenly you looked at me and said in a quiet and very serious voice, "I liked that moment." I knew exactly what you meant.

 

I've thought about that many times since then and it is pretty much how I feel about the past five and a half years.

 

Thanks for being such a fun, fabulous, loving, daughter. I want you to always know that I liked that moment. A lot.

 

Love,
Mommy