48 months

cora bean,

I love to think about the day you were born. I love remembering how excited papa was, how eager we were to meet you, how perfectly perfect it was to do all of our time before you came at home together. I love how jamin knew just who you were when he saw you for the first time. "hi, bean," he greeted you, as if you had just been hiding in another room all this time rather than growing in utero. I love how you didn't have a name for two days while we got to know you better. I have trouble remembering your tininess or your quietness, but if I squint my mind's eye I can see that, too.

as much as I glory in the first time we met, I can't imagine a day being better than today, either. today you turned four. today your pinky got to join the three other fingers of your hand to stand upright and proud when anyone asks how old you are. today was your day, and you totally owned it. you had mac and cheese for breakfast and thai food for lunch and we never really did eat supper because there were popovers and berries and fruit salad as a late afternoon snack. and who can be bothered with supper when there is new furniture to set up in your dollhouse and new playmobils to introduce to each other? all that after you and papa and jamin planted your "birthday potatoes" which you will gladly remind us about come harvesting time next fall. you and jamin were both asleep by 7:45 tonight. birthday bonus for your parents!






cora, your brother loves you. you are totally crazy about him: that is clear to anyone who sees the two of you together. you hold his hand to walk up for the children's sermon in church and then lean your body into his as you sit listening together. you echo his choices in just about every category, even when he chooses things he knows you don't like. you guys fuss and squabble like kids do, but I want to be sure you know that kid loves you very much. jamin saved and saved to buy you a birthday gift. granted it was something he happened to want very much for himself, but I do think his intentions were good ones. after a little surprise monetary gift from aunt gini and uncle gary, he had exactly enough and he was the proudest kid that toy store has ever seen. he picked ribbons for the bow that he thought you would love. he hid the gift in your closet and made a treasure map to lead you to it, first thing on your birthday morning. he even drew you in various locations on the map because he was not sure where you would be when he gave it to you. and of course you loved his gift, a playmobil covered wagon so that you can play laura ingalls together. you told everyone all day it was the best gift you got. I think the two of you together are probably the best gift, but I am totally biased.

so much happened to you this year. we went on a grand summertime adventure. you went to camp and learned songs that you still sing, complete with hand motions. we worked at farms and you wowed folks with your capabilities and kindness. you started school at mountain sun, where you are completely content to play on your own every day. you starred in the christmas pageant as this year's only female shepherd (jamin was a shepherd, so you had to be one, too). you had your tonsils out and healed right up like a champ. between it all, here there everywhere, it has been a complete joy getting to know you. you are so very kind, thinking of others in ways that would never occur to me. you love animals and say prayers for them (rhodie, our chickens, the horses in our neighborhood, cows we pass on the road) regularly. you love turtles very most, and everyone who knows you knows this about you because you tell everyone you meet. or you are carrying one with you, always a great conversation starter. people stop us all the time to tell us how beautiful you are, how precious, how sweet. you sing along with the music in the car with so much gusto I can be brought to tears just watching you in the rearview mirror. you love to dress up, you love to pretend to read to your animals, you love to color and cut things out. you are the youngest kid in your sunday school class, but also one of the most attentive. I love when the teacher tells me about the questions you ask, the stories you share.  you have an insight that surprises me daily. you are silly and serious all in the same beat, and you fully expect us to keep up with you. you and jamin are so very different, but you have learned to balance each other so beautifully. just yesterday jamin was nervous about going to a playgroup meeting without  me being there and you just reassured him the whole walk inside that you would play with him the whole time, even if other kids came and asked you to play. your loyalties are fierce, little lady. it's a beautiful thing.

I can overthink this parenting thing. I can talk circles about the school system and discipline techniques and diet and sleep and on and on. I can worry about nail polish fumes and how my wanderlust is shaping your own and how many times a week can we eat popcorn for supper before it is a bad thing? but mostly, when I am truly honest with myself, I am just in silent wonder at how dadgum lucky I am to have a kid like you. and really I can't even take any credit for it all, no matter how much I have researched and planned and worried myself silly. you are totally your own self, your own little personhood, and I am just so so thankful that I get to ride this wave with you. and when you look back on being four I hope you remember all our times in the garden, our dance parties in the kitchen, and most of all, the feeling of being completely, wholly, unabashedly loved by your mama.

yours for superhero days and turtles at bedtime and everything in between,

mama