* You still carry your dice around like loveys.  They quickly overflowed the bag I made for you, and have since taken up residence in this little suitcase.  You were sad you could only take 100 to One Hundred’s Day at school.  How could you choose ONLY 100 dice?

* You have a love/hate relationship with piano.  It’s not a pretty thing to watch.  A child who screams at the keys and then plays “Ode To Joy” is much like watching a madman invent Frankenstein.  I’d like to explain this heated learning curve, but as your Momma who gave it to you, I know it just comes with the package.

* You absolutely despise being 4.  It’s a daily mantra.  “I’m almost 5, I’m almost 5, I’m almost 5”.  You’re so over the chant, you’ve started telling strangers you are 5, following the pattern you’ve followed since you were 2.  You won’t outgrow this stage until you’re 21.  Ugh.

* Getting time alone with you is like taking a Time Machine to my own childhood.  You rattle on and on, this way and that, almost nonsensically, unless I’m really paying close attention.  Within those threads of broken conversation is a sense of humor so deep, so unexpected, that to miss even a fraction of it is like throwing a diamond into the sea.

* You are so quick.  You seem to learn when no one is noticing.  My educational curve with you goes something like, “Wait…I don’t remember teaching you to do that…”.  Writing your name, reading, counting, adding…you just do it.  I waiver between stunned silence and celebration.  Last weekend you walked upstairs holding “Hop On Pop”, cuddled up on the couch next to me and Aunt Jenny and Aunt Lydia, and read the entire book.  Like it was nothing.  Like you knew how to read, and excuse me, but when did that happen?  To keep you busy during Sara’s homework, I gave you an addition worksheet last night, and a bag of blocks.  Done.  Nothing seems to take you more than 5 minutes.  Except “Ode To Joy”.  Don’t get me started again.

* You are scared to your bones about Kindergarten.  I know because every time we pass the Kindergarten team of teachers, you tell them how much YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR KINDERGARTEN!!  That’s Kelly-Code for, “Oh My God, I’m so frightened, I think I might die right here in the carpool line.”  You told Aunt Lydia you can’t possibly go to Kindergarten because you can’t read or do math. I can’t wait for the pleasant surprise of Day 1 when you discover, yet again, the world is your oyster.

* While your uni-mood has been switched out for a rainbow of emotions that change per minute, you somehow make it work.  We’ve so bought into your character that you could wake up writing Chinese and we’d still see YOU.  Everything works on you: whining, laughter, singing, screaming…what can I say girl?  You look great in every hat.

*The flavor which permeates the right now and will last forever tastes something like: we love you, we love you, we love you.  This house of people, cats and chaos simply adores you.

Your Historian,

Mommy

P.S. Thanks for the Chinese “I Love You” Mother’s Day Card written in hanzi.  Seriously…hanzi Kelly.  You wrote in hanzi and I can’t get you to shampoo or brush your own hair.  I may be stretching here, but sometimes I think you’re holding out on me.