Dear Susannah,
Hey baby girl, happy birthday. Six! SIX.
Exactly six years ago we met, and the squirming, kicking, cantaloupe-and-liverwurst-craving boy I had been so sure I was having…
…turned out to be a rosy-cheeked, blonder-than-blonde dollface of a ladybug. You, kiddo.
Since then, things have gotten pretty noisy.
Since then, things have gotten pretty wonderful.
I love how your heart leaps out of your chest to comfort a crying classmate, a meowing kitten, or a UPS guy who maybe hadn’t gotten his quota of high-fives for the day.
I love how, after you’re sent to your room (for something which was, let’s be honest, totally a misunderstanding), you’ll send me an apology note on a paper airplane.
I love how you collect puns like pebbles, and skip ’em into emotional puddles when the situation calls for them- and even when they don’t.
I love how you’ve made me a savvier and infinitely more patient Mom on my good days…and I love how you’ve become an understanding member of society on my bad ones.
Your inside jokes absolutely make up for your outside voice.
You are, quite literally, the funniest person I know. Also the one with the shortest fuse, tallest tales, slowest routines and quickest defense.
Never change, sweetheart.
Always change. But then again, it’s your call.
(But then again, you know that.)
Happy birthday, Susannah Mae.
Love,
Mama
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