The house is empty tonight - you and Daddy are still in Tahoe, likely resting or playing after skiing today. You asked Daddy to call me this morning, on your way to Sierra, and after asking me where the water pack is, you said someone wanted to say "Hi" to me. Turned out it was Rocco, your Zhu Zhu pet that looks like a raccoon wanted to chirp 'hello' and a bit later, goodbye.
You are such a big girl, such an amazing kid. We had our regularly semi-annual parent-teacher conference with Brooke, your first grade teacher a couple weeks back, and she was positively glowing about you. Your reading level is equivalent to a beginning third grader, your math skills have become strong and confident over the past couple months, and overall you are one incredible kid. I think your teacher was proud, but probably not as proud as Daddy and me.
Then there's skiing. This week you skied your 16th, 17th, and possibly 18th days of the year, and you are barreling down the mountain like a maniac. A reasonably in control maniac, albeit. You're sort of working on turns, but your confidence is good, and you follow Daddy or I with no problem, and I don't have to slow down for you, much! Today in fact, Daddy said you were going off small jumps and following him through trees ... watch out, here comes Ava!
You had your regular visit to the "tooth doctor" last week, where we saw that you have six grown up teeth (bottom two front, and front and back molars), with four more teeth on their way. You're so good at the dentist, and you like the special toothbrush that polishes your teeth because it tickles. This time as your prize you got a red thin "fortune fish" that tells if you're in love, jealous, fickle, and the like. Once it said you were in love, so I questioned who you were in love with ... you adamantly deny you're in love with any boy in your class. So we agreed, you and I, that we're both in love with Daddy.
You are talkative, animated, and incredibly imaginative. You're excited that the cherry tree out back is blossoming, as it does every year around your birthday. A few years back Daddy threatened to cut down that tree, as it was pruned badly by previous owners, but I refused. Even if it's not perfectly shaped, it's beautiful, and you appreciate it as much as I do, like a present to celebrate your birth.
We've come a long way - you, Daddy, and me. Seven years the three of us have been a family, time that has bonded us further, strengthening communication. Sometimes you ask me if we can have a baby, you think you'd like a baby sister, but no, it's not going to happen. Our tripod family is perfect, to me anyway. For you, we'll make do with your fourteen first cousins, and dozens of friends.
We still have Mommy and Ava days, the two of us. Sometimes we run errands, and sometimes we plan something different. I hope we can always have a slice of time that is just for us where we talk about everything and nothing.
You still call the remote control to the TV the "me-rote," which is so cute so I don't correct you. You're less cautious around adults you know, but still don't like talking to new people. You started in a weekly French class, and we have a new ritual of getting a 'croissant au chocolate' and steamed milk from the French bakery the morning after, before heading to school. You think it's funny that kids and adults see the paper cup and ask if you're drinking coffee.
You are an absolute monkey on the playground, swinging between metal rings, and climbing with absolute confidence. You stretch my limits of comfort to see you.
We're not sure yet, what we're doing for your birthday. You want a sleepover with girls from your class, which I'm limiting to three plus you, but then we're also talking about a big party, like we do on alternate years, where Daddy and I celebrate that we've made it this long as parents, and you are turning out okay.
Recently I sang to you the song I altered and sang in the hospital, at three in the morning, when you were wide awake with those luscious dark eyes, "just call me angel, I'm your three AM angel, just pat my back so I can burp, Mommy..." And now you request it, my song to you, at one day old, where I knew you had my heart and my love, completely. I think you know it too, especially now when I make up new words.
But most of all, I love you, constantly. You will always be my three AM angel, and I will rub your back so you can sleep.
Love,
Forever,
Mommy
