You came into this world in a most unusual way. Well, I mean, technically, it was just the normal way, but the cast on my left leg made it unique. I think I was a first for both my OB and my orthopedic surgeon. 34 weeks pregnant with a broken ankle. Delivered at 41 weeks (you just have do things at your own pace, don't you?) with cast still on.
Four years later, and you still do things your own way. You pick out your own clothes (dresses and skirts only - princesses don't wear pants), you make your own lunch, you get things done. If you want to. You have ambition. You have drive. Even if it's just to spread your own peanut butter. One day that drive will serve you well.
You started preschool this past fall and let me tell you, they love you there. You are thriving in the school environment when I worried you wouldn't like it because you can't do your own thing. Turns out the independence they teach is right up your alley.
I hate to confess this, but of my three children, for some reason you have always tried my patience the most. I don't know if it's our similar independent streaks or that you're so much like my sister (with whom I get along - now that we don't live together) or why exactly it is you test me. I often feel like I have failed. I hate that.
Your moods are changeable. Crying and angry one minute, laughing and happy the next. No exaggeration - it happens that fast. Sometimes I don't know what to do with you and your moods - usually I just wait you out, since I know the stormy moods don't last long. Or I ask you do something grown-up because anything that appeals to your sense of independence is good, right?
Happy Birthday, sweet girl.
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