I can’t believe my baby girl has turned four. Swift is the passing of time. It was only yesterday that she was bo… no, sorry, I won’t go there again. Let’s just say that this is a good age for her. Please, Lord, no more birthdays! I don’t want her getting any older. I like this time: lots of hugs, sitting in daddy’s lap, bedtime stories, innocent play.
Yep, that’s what I’ll do: switch off her time clock. Besides, the last thing this world needs is more teenagers, right?
6:45 this morning we were getting ready to sing for Clara and bring her some presents. But right as we were starting a head pops out from behind the master bedroom door (she had been sleeping in our bed).
“Oh, honey,” said Angelica, “get back into bed!”
“No… wait!” she answered sadly. “I want to be in my bed!” She quickly trips across the floor into her room. She wanted us to do it the right way.
When we come in, singing Happy Birthday, she’s happy. And even more pleased when she gets her presents. Above you see her with one of her most-wanted presents: a cat that walks and talks (or meows).
Happy Birthday, honey!