Dear Zianne,
I look across the room, and I see a big girl. None of your babyhood lingers. You have long legs and a tall, slender frame. Your mouth is missing all your front teeth as you laugh at sarcasm and jokes you wouldn’t have understood just a year ago.
It’s been a year of learning. Learning to read. Learning to write. Learning to swing your body across the monkey bars. Learning to dive in the pool. Learning to unload the dishwasher. Learning to hang up your own clothes.
The transition from baby to child is not always an easy one. You haven’t napped in nearly two years, but every once in a while (often on a Friday at 4pm) you collapse onto your bed, filled with frustration and exhaustion. Sometimes I have to poke and prod you to wake up for dinner. You have been learning to read for the past year or so. Sometimes you sound out your words eagerly and amaze me as you fluently read an entire book, and other times you grow frustrated with vowels and consonants and refuse to finish even a page.
Just like you, I am in transition too. I am learning how to be a big kid mom. I am learning how to grant freedom in the right measure while trying to discern how to create boundaries to keep you safe. I am learning to take a deep breath and show you how to fold your laundry or help in the kitchen instead of doing everything for everyone, as I did when babies were crawling and toddling around my house.
You are not a baby any longer. You are a child with long, running legs and funny stories and hopes and dreams and interests emerging every day. It’s a joy to watch you grow. Each year with you has been beautiful and, yet, each year is better than the last.
Love,
Mama
