Last night I went to sleep the mother of a four year-old. This morning I woke up the mother of a five- year old.
I asked you what five felt like. You thought a moment and said, “it feels like four.” Congratulations. You’ve discovered the meaning of life about 30 years early.
I asked you what you wish you want to make this year that’s not a present. You said you wish that everyone in the world loves each other as much as they love their kids.
You live up to your name, my beautiful Sage.
Then I told you my secret, because I think that five is old enough to know it: My wishes are not about me. My wishes, I save for you and your sister.
I wish you remain the loving, honest, funny, wise, kind, compassionate person of integrity that you miraculously are today. I wish you remain the person with the strong moral compass who tells me solemnly when someone cuts in line.
I wish you remain the person who sobs uncontrollably when you think you have done something bad, not because you think you have disappointed us (or because I want you to cry), but because I think in your heart you know when you disappoint yourself.
I wish you remain the person who dances when the music stops, sings your own lyrics, and makes up your own 18 syllable words. I wish you remain the person who thinks every movie she sees is the very best one ever made. (It does make it a lot easy to find something to watch on a Saturday night.)
I wish you remain the person who takes care of your dolls as if it really, really matters. I wish you remain the person not afraid to one-up your dad with silly walks.
I wish you continue to hug with your entire body. I wish you never stop kissing me on the lips, even when your sister makes a face.
Most of all, I wish that forever you remain the five year-old Sage you are today. Because she is spectacular.
And, if I may, I wish that you never stop asking me questions like “Why are our heads so hard? Is that so we can hit them a lot of times?”
Happy fifth birthday my sweet girl. You make me whole in so many ways.