4 years /4 stories: Story #4

A letter to Belle:

Dear Mia Bella,

I think of you, years down the road reading this. How much of this time in your life do you remember? What can I tell you about the 4 year old in front of me?  

When I laid eyes on you for the first time, the words strait out of my mouth were, “Wow! That’s a Jarrod baby!” And he has insisted I dress you in pink ever since. I think he is worried you will look too much like him.

Aside from you looking just like your daddy, you have been our girly-girl from day one. I will admit the first year of your life that has a lot to do with me, but since then your desire for femininity has been quite apparent. You are constantly wanting to wear dresses. I’ve tried dressing you in skirts for the more affordable option. You humor me with this occasionally, but as soon as my back is turned you strip to your underclothes, and are handing me a new frock to adorn you. Even now you sit watching one of your favorite shows with your princess shoes on, holding your princess purse, and wearing the dress you chose for this morning (not your first choice, but that was a ‘church dress’ I wouldn’t let you wear).

I’m astonished and in a bit of wonderment at how you have grown. I bought you cloths earlier in the year, curtain that you would be able to wear them for the season at lest, only to discover you have out grown them a month later. You are fast on the heels of your cousin Eliza who is 4 years older than you. Soon, I don’t think her hand-me-downs will fit anymore. But I hope your height doesn’t bother you. Your dad smiles at you proudly, “She'll be my little volley-ball player”.  While I boast you will be a graceful ballerina.

You’ve been spinning in pirouettes shortly after you started walking, and you wiggle those hips as good as any Latina. So, it seemed preordained that we would put you in ballet this year. And with three classes under your belt, you are flying on cloud nine.

You sit and talk on your ‘phone’ exuding girlishness as you implore: “Oh, Prince Eric, Stop *giggle*… I can‘t marry you, I‘m in Paris.” That’s my girl. Tell him to wait. You go to Paris.

You are without a doubt, the second mommy in our home. And you aren’t satisfied unless you know every one is happy, and well. You fuss over all of us until we are taken care of to your satisfaction. But in true mommy form, you aren’t afraid to ‘discipline’ us, or tell us curtain behavior is ‘thumbs down’. Even occasionally trying to send your brother to his room.

You have a magnificent flair for the dramatic. You love to dance and twirl with your brother, pretending he is your prince charming, and he adores you enough to humor you. You are constantly acting out your favorite shows, or mimicking your princess tales. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to catch these moments on camera… even if you aren’t fully clothed.

I’m so grateful such a sweet spirit has blessed our family. So full of life, and willingness to love. Your desire to please is fervent. Your beautiful laugh is contagious. Your naiveté is inspiring. These last 4 years have been... awe-inspiring.

Love forever and always, 

 Momma