Today is May 25, 2004. This is the day my daughter turns five years old. This fall, she’ll begin Kindergarten. I don’t know how this happened. I blinked, and all of a sudden there’s this baby in the house. I bilnked again, and suddenly there’s this little person, who can walk and talk and do all sorts of funny things. And today she’s been with us for five years.
It’s just after midnight. Five years ago right now, Jen and I were in the hospital. Jen was doing the hard part. Her parents were there waiting. My mom was there waiting. Her sister was there waiting. We were all in the room together. We weren’t supposed to have that many people in the delivery room, but Jen was in labor for a long time, and we had all stuck it out, and the nurse didn’t have the heart to kick us out when it was “time.” So we all got to be there.
All but five years after that, she got her first stitches. On Saturday, she tripped at the store and bumped her head on a metal shelf, requiring four stitches, which she doesn’t feel look very princess-like. I’ve never had stitches myself. Gracie tells me I don’t ever want to. She’s probably right.
But she does feel like a princess now. A few hours ago, I installed a canopy on her bed. She fell asleep grinning and staring at the canopy and talking about how much she felt like a princess.
I hope she always feels like a princess. She’ll always be one to me.