“Oops! Excuse me, I tooted. I’m sorry if it stinks.”
*silence*
“Wait, am I really five??”
What a perfectly Bailey-esque monologue for me to wake up to in the early morning hours of January 10, 2013, Bailey’s fifth birthday. She is as polite as she is filter-less, and the idea of getting older truly gives her pause.
As we snuggled into bed the night before, Bailey’s excited chatter about her fast-approaching birthday slowly transformed into an inquisitive, somber sort of melancholy. As she laid in bed between me and her big brother, she began to consider what it meant to grow up. She wondered aloud about if she’d ever see her preschool teachers again, and if she could ever be in a class with Parker when they go to elementary school together. Suddenly, her little voice caught in her throat and she curled her body tightly around my side. Tears shone in her eyes as she whispered, “I don’t ever want to be a grown up and have to leave you.” My heart shattered into a bajillion pieces in that instant, and even Parker’s demeanor shifted as he scooted in closer. It was one of those painfully precious moments in life that pounces without warning. My heart lurched and thundered as I threw my arms around my perfectly awesome kids and whispered calm reassurances about the loooooong road of growing up we all have ahead of us.
(Please, please, please let it be long.)
My five-year-old Bailey Marlyce is a marvel. I couldn’t ask for, or even imagine, a more magical person to call my daughter.
I love you, girl.
*
(now, even Bailey Boles has days when she’d really like me to shove it with the whole picture-taking mess. unfortunately for her, I’m quite persistent.)