Today you are five!

Dear India,

This is you this morning. Today you are FIVE!

You are so five. Going on 15. You do this celebrity pose that you surely learned on Barbie--one hip stuck out to the side with your hand on it, elbow crooked. You roll your eyes. You sometimes have A Tone.

I put together this stroller last night because your dad is gone this week. Initially I had two extra pieces and both wheels kept falling off. And then one of my friends helped me on the phone, and now only one wheel falls off.

I think it's because the metal rod is supposed to have grooves on each end instead of just one end. Your dad thinks that it has something to do with the extra pieces, which incidentally are still extra. I keep telling him that I think he needs to saw a groove into the other end when he comes home.

If it were just me, I'd glue the thing on. However. I'm willing to wait for him to check it out.

For the time being, you're strollering very gently.

You're so full of energy and enthusiasm and certainty. You rush full speed at everything you want to do. You love exuberantly. Sometimes you drive your brother insane, but you love the tar out of him.

The other day you were so determined to do the monkey bars. You got up and fell down over and over until you could get to the third rung.

I admire you.

One of your teachers was endlessly impressed by the fact that on a stormy day you said the sky looked "ominous". She must've made a big deal of it, because now you regularly ask for words that most four-year-olds don't know.

Obstreperous is a word I've suggested. Because boy howdy are you.

And yet, you're extremely kind. You're gentle with younger kids. Your teachers told us that there's a child in your class with delays, and you're unfailingly patient and sweet with him.

Speaking of school, you recently told some of the kids in your class that for time out, we send you to the bathroom after your daddy poops. I had to tell your teacher this is absolutely not true. She laughed and told me that one of the boys was all, "Wow, I thought I had it bad!"

I was, I must admit, impressed with your creativity.

We've recently been discussing body hair and puberty and menstruation. I can only imagine what you've shared with your class in this regard.

You call yourself a fashionista. Your dad rolls his eyes at our shared enthusiasm for clothing and footwear. Some of your outfits are truly surprising but also incredibly refreshing. You love to put on my boots and prance around.

I deliberately don't talk about size and weight, instead emphasizing strength. You see me work out regularly, and sometimes you join me. You talk about how strong you are, about the physical things you can do. I hope this continues.

You hate food lately. Meals are generally torture. Despite this, you consistently like broccoli and you've become a huge fan of asparagus. You also like figs, which I'm kind of fixated on right now myself.

Sometimes I look at you think, how did I get so lucky? I say this to you. How am I so lucky that I get to be your Mama?

We are on spring break and we have had a lot of together time. Last night I hit my limit, and I said I needed a time out. You started to cry and followed me. So I invited you to join my in my time out. We snuggled in the chair in the back room. Because Jordan called it the "background" when he was very young, we still call it the background and I don't think we're ever going to stop.

You pronounce the fourth floor the floh floh. I'll be sad when that goes away.

And you still say, "It's glad that..." I'm so charmed by this that I never say "I'm glad" to model the correct form. I just agree with you.

You are wonderful company. I love spending time with you. I love when you put your small hand into mine.

I so often stroke your cheek and tell you that you are my joy, my treasure. Sometimes in the morning you do the same back to me.

Sometimes you come up to me and kiss me on the cheek over and over. Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss.

These things crack my heart wide open.

It's getting harder and harder to pick you up, but I will keep doing it as long as I can. You wrap your legs around my waist and your arms around my neck. You put your head on my shoulder, and I can feel your soft skin against my neck. Sometimes I feel your eyelashes flutter.

This is one of the unexpected pleasures of being your mother, something I have come to love most. One day you will be too big to fit or too old to want to. I hope it takes a long, long time.

I love you love you love you,

Mama