Ava,
Nine. I can't believe you're nine. I've asked you a couple times this week, joking, sort of, if you would go back to six? Six was fun! I tell you, with amusement. You smirk, head tilted, nope, you are taking the fast train right into nine, and even Mommy can't stop you.
Last night, I peeked in on you sleeping, four plush bunnies in a row, then Ava. Pink Peep Bunny, then White with purple striped inside ear bunny, then your treasured companions, white now gray after years of love: Fluffy Bun-Bun and Little Rabbit. Sometimes you tuck a blanket just around them, which makes my heart smile.
Halfway through another school year, at our third school, which you love. We showed up at 11, as requested, for your Birthday Circle. It started out with you sitting with your classmates on a circular rug, and everyone asked you questions about ... everything:
What was your first word? Ma! Ma!
What is your favorite iPad application? YouTube
What is your favorite thing? The iPad
Favorite movie? Pause, then, Monsters Inc.
Favorite summer camp? Silver Tree (good thing, you're signed up for four weeks already)
Favorite TV show? Dog With A Blog (lots of heart connections on that one)
Favorite place you've been? Thailand
Which do you like better: Disneyland or LegoLand? Disneyland (you haven't been to LegoLand)
Do you love cats or dogs more? Dogs (I won't tell Magi and Unagi, they'll be heartbroken, maybe)
Favorite books? Ivy & Bean
Favorite subject? Science
What do you want to be when you grow up? A vet ... "and something else I can't remember"
Favorite color? Black and purple
What do you want for your birthday? American Girl doll clothes
What's your favorite animal? Bunny
If you could meet one famous person, who would it be? Sky Does Minecraft (LOTS of heart connections from your classmates on that one, the guy who authors many YouTube videos of his play-by-play of Minecraft games)
Then many of your classmates shared wishes or gave appreciations for you. Both of your teachers appreciated your "sparkle" and how your energy lights up the room.
We had our parent/teacher conference a couple weeks back, and the few things that I remember are that they've discovered "Nellie" ... who didn't have a formal name, but Ms. LeAnne calls your "sour face" as opposed to your "sparkle face." You love science, and were super-motivated to make your flashlight, coming up with ways to make it bigger and brighter (paper towel tube instead of toilet paper, and more batteries). You're good at math, getting better at multiplication along with the rest of the class. We've been playing games since then, you, Daddy, and I, making math multiplication sentences while in the car or sitting on the table. This week you came home with all correct answers for 2's, 3's and 4's. You said the 3's were easy, since I reminded you about the School House Rock song "3 is a magic number," and did I have a trick to remembering 12's? We mapped them out, those pesky 12's, to see the pattern. "Okay, I got it!"
Your asst. teacher, who takes recess yard duty on occasion, said you also have your first crush ... you'd think someone sucker-punched Daddy in the stomach the way his face flushed. Turns out that boy ... looks a heck of a lot like Daddy, as I teased him. "No," Daddy said, "he's darker than me." But he's the only Latin kid in class, my love, he's the closest Ava could get ...
We have a sneaky suspicion, though, that there's more than one boy that has a crush on you, however, by the way they were hanging on your every word during the Birthday Circle, and the stories we hear second hand of the one who pulls your hair, the one who wants to make sure nobody forgets your birthday, the one who was worried your April Fool's joke of moving to New York was real, and the one who was really concerned you were hurt when you and Daddy fell off the scooter a month back. Not to mention the one who picks his boogers and tries to put them on you (Young boys are strange in their affections, older boys as well.) See what I mean?
You started playing the recorder in January, in an after school class called "Recorder Karate" ... the idea being for each song you learned and played for your teacher, you get a different colored string "belt" to tie on the end of your recorder.
Onlookers would have thought the first song was Beethoven or Bach, for all the drama that ensued. But no, it was "Hot Cross Buns," a sweet little two line ditty, that you came home, that first day, and squeaked your way through a half dozen notes, nearly in tears, insisting you would "NEVER" learn how to play. Never!
So we took a break. We ate dinner. We did your homework. And a bit before bedtime you asked if I could play the song on the keyboard. Sure! Then you picked up the recorder and tried again. Can you guess what happened? Yep, you played it perfectly. I smiled, proud, then laughing said, "Hey, my love, is that what never sounds like?"
We use that joke a lot, when something seems impossibly, inconceivably hard.
You're also rocking Gymnastics Level 2 class. Your cartwheels are spot-on, your round-offs are rounding off, and you're perfecting the backbend from standing, then flip over onto the red sofa (in the living room, not at gymnastics). You are motivated and excited, and have such coordination and agility, I see it as a perfect match. I just remind you that you know your body much better than anyone else, and to listen to your body first, especially before a substitute gymnastics teacher who is encouraging you to do something that hurts.
We've also been practicing what I like to call the Utah Phillips' Moose Turd Pie approach to dinner, wherein, the person who complains about dinner is responsible for making the next dinner. Because I'm done with the complaints, the eye rolls, the "I don't like this," and the faces of chagrin, disgust at something you used to like a couple months ago, but now don't. Then we took it a step further, Daddy and I, thinking that before we have a really spoiled kid (which is possible), the way to curb that is with more responsibility. So you, my big-little girl, are now responsible for dinner one night a week. Last weekend you made planned and made a salad, with only a bit of help from me as your sous chef. Of course I was amused when Daddy sat down, rolled his eyes and said "eeewwww!" and "I don't like this!"
But then he smiled, ate his salad, took a second helping, and declared it was the best salad he'd ever eaten.
And now, it's time for me to stop typing, and you to stop watching YouTube videos featuring Sky Does Minecraft, and make those snowball cupcakes for your birthday.
I love you big girl. You are growing up ... and I'm proud.
Mommy
