I started to type that she was suddenly a big kid – but I haven’t gotten there yet. She’s still my baby, my tiny one, my little love bug, and at some point, I imagine that she’ll start to chafe against the fact that I always see her with her little baby face superimposed over her six year old one.
At six years old, she’s scary smart, reading on her own and still able to entertain herself for hours with her imagination. She’s the one we call the rabbi, the one who doesn’t chafe or rage against keeping kosher for Passover, the one who loves going to religious school. She’s the reader, the writer, the dancer and the gross girl. She’s the one who laughs at Daddy’s jokes, the one who asks for Papa to take her to the baseball game. The one who lights up when my mom comes over, the one who loves to walk the dog with me.
She’s been my angel from the beginning, the brutal pregnancy that turned into the easiest, loveliest birth and blissful babyhood. Other than the nursing battles the first few months (which she more than managed to make up for by nursing until well past her fourth birthday). She walked late, potty trained early, and hasn’t stopped talking since she started. She’s sarcastic and funny, so incredibly sweet, and it’s staggering to me that she’s only six years old. That’s she’s already six years old.
My beautiful girl, my little baby, my mini-me, and Daddy’s love bug. I love you Julianna Ruth – happy, happy birthday to one of best and brightest things in my world.
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