Annie is Four

Dear Annie,

You have been four now for a few days and I am late writing this birthday letter to you. There hasn't been a spare minute since we woke you up with presents on Thursday morning and I keep waiting for that long, perfect stretch of time in which to write you something meaningful. Instead, here I am at 1:00 a.m., unable to sleep because I owe you this (and some freelance copy besides).

For your birthday, we got you a few simple things we thought you'd love: a wedding dress for dress-up, some princess figurines with clothes and shoes, some flower hooks for hanging your artwork in your room, and a new movie. Daddy and I brought you your presents in bed and sang to you, and you loved them. You were warm and cuddly and full of awe that it was your birthday. I got right down by your face so I could smell your cheeks and asked you, "Can you even believe that you are FOUR years old?!?" and you could.

Within two hours, I had taken away the wedding dress because you tried to kick Jemma in the face, hit me, and refused to apologize. You were defiant and out of control and angry for no reason at all. This is how life has been with you these last few weeks - one moment you are charming and generous, the next you are difficult and hard to understand. You are testing us over and over, asking, "Is this OK? How about this?" and we are using every ounce of our strength and patience to say how very much we love you, to set boundaries because we do.

On Saturday, we went to a family wedding. You and Jemma wore matching brown corduroy dresses and cream leggings - perfect outfits for a cloudy fall day and and outside wedding. You were looking around in wonder at the fancy cake and the bride's gown and the flowers. You sat next to me and drank a Sprite, then ate some crackers and cheese from your little plate and some salad, about which you were very proud. After dinner, and after the newlyweds danced, the bride danced with her dad. I looked at Daddy; he was watching her sisters and mom watch the father/daughter dance. They had their arms around one another and were, as you would say, "crying in a happy way." You and Jemma were perched next to us, watching the magical duo dance, eating your cake daintily. And I knew he was thinking what I was thinking: someday it will be you out there with him, dancing at your very own wedding. Just then, I saw some beauty in your profile that gave me a glimpse of what that day will be like for you and for us. Just then, you were so precious to me that I could not imagine ever being happy for you to grow up and love someone else that way. But I will, I know.

In the time between now and then (many, many years), I am appreciating how delicate a task it will be to raise a daughter who will use her stubborness and her determination to create a life that works for her. I want to give you boundaries but not quench your spirit; I want to answer your questions but not discourage you from finding your own answers; I want to teach you to channel your defiance into a determination to make things better for you and for those around you. I predict that you, the girliest of girls, will not settle for being treated as any kind of "weaker" sex, and I am proud of you for that.

As the last part of your fourth birthday extravaganza, we are taking you to Chicago on Saturday. Just you, just us. I can't wait to watch your face as you take in whole new worlds of things you've never seen before - fish, dolphins jumping out of the water, taller buildings than you've ever seen, restaurants and taxis and trains. Seeing the city through your eyes, it will be fresh, new, and more interesting than it ever was before - just like life through your eyes. Thanks for letting me peek.

I love you, my girl.

Love,
Mommy