Look at you! You have grown so much, into your own little person. That’s the kind of statement someone says about a much younger child, maybe a 3 or 4 year old, not someone 6 going on 7. Maybe it’s because you’ll always be my baby. But you are so uniquely you that I marvel at it every day.

You are almost always happy (except of course, when you are not (ha!)).

When I pick you up at daycare after my workday is done, I always ask, “How was your day today?”

And you always reply in the same way. A singing voice proclaims, “AWE-SOME!”

In fact, on the days that you say simply, “Good.” or “Fine.” You stop and correct yourself, “No! It was — AWE-SOME!” in that same sing-song voice.

You are always singing. Always humming. I imagine you always have music going on in your head. My mom tells me that I was the same way. I wonder when we should start piano lessons for you. I don’t want you to start too young, but I think you are just about there.

You are SO creative, it kills me. Every day there are new drawings scattered about the house. Sometimes littered on the floor where you ripped the page out of the notepad you were working on, dropped it, and moved rapidly on to the next one.

Sometimes a new creation will be taped up on the front door. Possibly on the outside, for the world to see your vision.

Sometimes left on the kitchen table, or my night table or my pillow!

I still remember when you were 3 or 4, – we had to give you access to plenty of scotch tape, so that you would stop gluing your artwork directly to the wall.

You are so smart, and so funny. You love to spell Ethan’s spelling words right along with him. “Jocelyn, let Ethan spell these, he has a test tomorrow!” You love to read to me at night, sometimes opposite me so that you can turn the book around and show me the pictures, just like a teacher reading to a class would do. I love that you love to read, and I hope that love stays with you always.

I know that you’re nervous about oral surgery tomorrow. I’m nervous too, even though I know it will all be OK. The dentist explained to us that your 6-year-old molars didn’t form properly — and I can even tell, non-dentist that I am. Something when you were a baby happened to keep those teeth from growing correctly. The enamel never formed wholly, and even at this young age, all four teeth are yellowed and full of cavities.

She explained that we could just remove these teeth, and then your 12 year old molars (which are there in the x-rays, and have a high chance of being perfectly normal teeth) will grow in and take their place. Also — when you get your wisdom teeth, you’ll get to keep them, instead of having them pulled like mommy and daddy, and most people have to do.

We were sitting at the surgeon’s office, and you hopped up on the chair at the desk to spin around. I tried to coax you out of it by saying, “That chair is for the doctor you know. Doctor’s have to go to a loooooot of school to be a doctor!”

Quick as a wink, you stopped spinning and looked at me. “Mom, I went to over ONE HUNDRED DAYS of kindergarten you know.”

I don’t think Daddy and I could help but laugh out loud, much to your chagrin.

I could tell you were nervous though — in the doctor’s office, you kept getting sillier and siller, the same way I get when I’ve been drinking and stay up waaaay too late. Slap-happy. It might have been the doctor – he was being super silly! He asked if you were 25, and whether or not you drove us to the appointment. Then he asked if you had any crazy bunny slippers you could wear for the surgery! We didn’t, but we got some Hello Kitty slippers, didn’t we?

Tomorrow is the big day. I know you’re disappointed to miss school on Friday, but I think lots of Phineas and Ferb, Strawberry Shortcake, Ponyo, and The Little Mermaid on the couch will make up for it.

I love you sweetie,

Mommy