It still blows my mind that this:
Has the ability to become this:
From the baby who was born smiling, to the seven year-old who still does it every chance she gets.
We joke, Thalia, that you could never be an actress because you can’t deliver a single line, no matter how dramatic or serious or awful without those beautiful lips of yours curling upward into a smile. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Thank you. For being you. For still reaching for my hand when we cross the street. For arguing with your sister about who gets to sit next to me at dinner. For your resilience. For your love of homework. For your remarkable sense of empathy. For being good company. For singing off-tune with all your heart. For celebrating the joy of spinning. For loving the cats–even the stinky one. For your stories, your poems, and your artwork. For saying “you’re the best mom in the whole wide world” even when I haven’t given you something made out of chocolate. For your absolutely terrible jokes.
Thank you for making me a mother. For teaching me more in seven years than I probably learned in the first 35 years combined. And of course, for those wonderful smiles.
You say you want to stay seven forever, that it’s your lucky number. And I might like it that way. But something tells me the best is still yet to come.
Happy birthday Thal. I couldn’t love you more.