This is the last day that you are four years old. Four was pretty much the most delicious year ever. We talk now like old friends. You are still yet under my spell and believe me to be a beautiful princess. You know what you like and what you don't like. You are a bit odd, but you come by it earnestly. You are excellent at the art of manipulation. You fall for the same joke over and over-(oops you dropped yr pocket). You like good music. You infuriate me sometimes, but can listen to me explain why now. You and I both practice saying "I'm Sorry" to each other anymore. It's not a one way street. You are fussy like daddy and ask me insane questions like if I have washed yr fork with soap. Yr heart is on yr sleeve like mommy. You are learning. You are opening up to this vast world. You comfort us now. You can make me stop whatever in the world it is that I am doing just to stare at yr loveliness. You still love pancakes. You are a good brother. You don't have any worries. Red is yr best color. You are protected. You are loved like mad.
I had to come inside after this photo shoot and hold a dishtowel in my hand and then to my face all dramatic like I was in movie or something. Overcome by yr growing up. It was like a fleeting moment of pain. It was bizarre. God- sometimes I wish I were normal.
title post- Harriet the Spy 1996