Dear Diletta,
I am a bit delayed in writing this letter, and you are now toddling around on 16-month-old legs, Saltwater sandals strapped to your feet, and a petite ponytail spraying from the top of your head. You still have your baby chubbiness and your darling dimple, but you are maturing day by day. You have loud opinions and a deep love of food, but you still pop your thumb in your mouth when you’re feeling tired and bury your head in my shoulder when you’re feeling shy.
There is a certain sweetness to this toddler season that I am trying to savor. You are still a baby in so many ways, but blossoming into a little girl before my eyes. We bought you a tiny bike for your first birthday and you somehow mastered it the same day, using your little toes to push across the tile of our house. You love to climb and have figured out how to get on and off the sofa at your leisure. Yesterday, you reached new heights (quite literally) when you made your way up the ladder to the top bunk in your sisters’ room. Perhaps I should have lunged in fear as you surpassed the second rung, but instead, I stood back and watched you conquer each step with the biggest smile of achievement on your face.
I delight in the moments of watching you grow and build new skills, but I also cherish the times when you press your head against my chest and let me hold you. I know those days are numbered, so I try to freeze the memories of baby you in my mind.
Thank you, Diletta, for being the sweetest fourth baby I could ever ask for. I’ve loved the extra time I’ve gotten to spend with you in the pandemic-world you were born into. While I try not to fear the future world you will grow up in, my greatest desire and prayer is that you will know, just as your name means, that you are “beloved” by the Father and that you love and obey him in return.
All my love,
Mama
