She's got the whole world in her hand.
Yesterday, after a weekend filled with rainbow candies, tie-dyed cake, birthday singing and present opening, after egg hunting and Easter baskets and family gathering doubly over, my second child, my sweet middle daughter, turned five years old.
Five years ago she came into the world with a rush and a handful of pushes. With the doctor commenting, "Just one more push!" and my mind screaming, If it's not just one more push this doctor is going to end up with my foot in his face! And, lucky for the very kind doctor, it was just one more push. Another beautiful daughter placed on my chest. Our skin warming each other. Her face squished in disgust at being disturbed from her familiar (albeit cramped) environment. My surprise at just how much more baby chunk those Dairy Queen blizzards packed on her sweet cheeks. My little garden gnome.
Paige is every bit a girl's girl as one can imagine. She asked for dresses for her birthday, the more colorful and twirly the better. She begs to have her nails painted, and to experiment with my makeup. She loves to play make believe with her sister and Barbies with anyone who will join her. Although she enjoys the park and swinging, she is not quite eager to play outside, and certainly frets whenever she gets too dirty. She is a princess in most ways except that she never wants her hair brushed. Ever.
Occasionally she tells me she misses her pacifier, and I can not believe that it was only a year ago that she still had one. She delights in helping her grandma with all her flowers, and has been asking to check out the flowers at Home Depot with her daddy.
Paige is my little shopper. She will go to the mall just to look around, even making the request herself, yet she is perfectly happy to spend the day at home, making her baby sister laugh, drawing a picture, playing with her dolls, and watching an episode of Lego Friends on You Tube.
Her emotions take her by storm, and we are never unclear as to how Paige is feeling. Joy spills out of her with smiles and skipping legs, just as easily as anger jolts out with door slamming, yelling, and big moaning cries.
She is our sleeper. The only one of our children who will ask to go to bed if she is tired. The only one who will sleep in on a lazy morning.
Happy Birthday, my dear P. I love you through and through.