Tonight we brushed your teeth and read Fancy Nancy. We knelt by your pink bed, said prayers and I tucked you in with A HUG, A KISS AND A SQUEEZE! Turning off the light, I said one last good night to my two year old little girl. Messy hair and just a little chocolate smudged on your cheek. Tomorrow, I will say good morning to my three year old little girl. Your hair will be even messier, the chocolate a little more smudged. Most people won't notice a difference.
My darling girl, what a year.
You have found your voice. Literally. Most of your days are spent in song. Singing to your cereal, before naps, at dinner and in the hours in between. You love musicals and expect other toddlers to do the same. Consequently, your favored befriending technique is to sing to the child you are trying to win over. The song is usually Sleeping Beauty's I Know You and it is always accompanied by expressive hand gestures. Sometimes the kid in question is scared, other times intrigued. They are always confused. I think maybe you have it right. A little more Sleeping Beauty, a lot more song...we would all have more friends.
Five months ago, you became a big sister. And, baby, I was terrified for you. I wanted you to know that Viola's arrival just meant that the center of our universe got bigger. That there is room for everyone. That I was making your life better, not harder or smaller or less. On the way to the hospital I cried on your daddy's shoulder, tears for the things you might think we were taking from you with Viola's homecoming. Present in hand, you came to the hospital the next day to meet your new sister. You hugged her and then climbed up on my lap. No questions or fears or hurt. She made sense to you. You have adored her ever since. Margaret, you hate when she naps and love when she plays with your hair. She is your BABY HONEYPIE! Thank you for loving her.
The sphere you live in is a lovely one. It is pink and cupcakes and beribboned delight. God gave you an ability to make the things around you more beautiful. I thank Him for that. The world outside our door is not like the one that your songs and princesses live in. There can be darkness and disappointment. Sometimes I cry on your daddy's shoulder, aching at the thought of sending you out into it. And then you come and sit on my lap, and I am reminded of who you are. A daughter of God. One day you will walk out of my door and into that big world. And while life will not always make sense to you, I promise that you will know what to do. All the same things you have always done. You will sing and love and make the places you go more beautiful.
Happy Birthday, My Margaret Zuzu Bingham.
I love you.