Four years. That’s how long it’s taken me to wear you out. I’ve learned some things about you in the meantime. You are the third muddiest kid I’ve ever seen at preschool pickup. You make great animal noises and would prefer to be a coyote over a bunny rabbit. Fierce little thing. You think I’m the Sarah that sends you gifts in the mail and I will bask in that undeserved credit for as long as I can get away with. All your fancy dress shoes have never slowed you down and I’ve upgraded to a sharp, high speed continuous shooting mode just to keep you in my frame. Every time I see you I ask if you could please stop growing… but compliance isn’t our dance song now is it?

I like your spunk, kid. Always have and always will.