She isn’t a baby anymore. She is smart and funny, capable already of collapsing into pre-teen giggles that leave her gasping for breath and turning bright red; a wickedly contagious brand of laughter that is hers alone.
Don’t be fooled by photographs – this girl is nobody’s princess. In their make-believe play she is the bad guy, or the hero, or the warrior, never the damsel in distress. She is strong.
She knows who she is and what she is capable of, and she is not afraid to tell anyone that she can do something all by herself. And boy, does she like a good challenge. Just tell her she is too little to attempt something, just try convincing her that she can’t quite swim all the way around the pool yet and she will prove you wrong. She looks fear in the face and carries on with determination and will. She sees her older brother’s abilities as records to be beaten. She can whoop all of us at quite a few board games.
But she is also soft. She still needs those cuddly moments, still needs to know that she will always be our baby even when she is all grown up. She is compassionate and empathetic, sweet at just the right times. She knows her story and likes to hear it, to see the pictures that form a sketch of her beginnings. And she knows where she is going: currently her life goals include being a mommy, an artist, and an animal trainer (because “I am am much better at teaching animals than you are, Mommy”). And I have no doubt that she can do all of those things, and more, if she puts her mind to it.
Right now she is our Em, our sweet, funny, brilliant little-big girl. She is, quite perfectly, four.
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