When you were born, I thanked the Lord in Heaven that you were a girl. After the climbing, running, jumping, pounding, thundering pair of boys that came before you, I needed calm. I needed still.
I dressed you in pink, and I bought hair bows for every occasion, because of course every girl must have many, many hair bows. However, you are not a big fan of hair bows.
I was certain that we would spend hours together, quietly reading, having tea, and shopping, the way Kate and I did.
Isn’t that funny?
Now I see that quiet is not who you are. Nor is shopping, or tea-sipping or anything that doesn’t involve vast amounts of movement and jumping. And while all that jumpingrunningspinningtwirling is rather exhausting at times, it is also one of the most wonderfully thrilling things about you.
Do you know that I love you?
I love who you are, just as you are.
You are a freckle faced nymph. You, my dear, have some sass. You are a little spark plug. Just like me.
Daddy says fireworks are gonna fly between me and you when you get a bit older.
But Ella, I have felt the boom of fireworks in my heart from the moment you were born.
Happy birthday, baby girl. I adore you.