Dear little she-who-is…

I am always observing you and your siblings doing funny and smart and annoying and wonderful stuff, and am forever composing in my head some notes about these precious things, because I know I will forget them. You also love stories about past events so I want to be ready with some details. Trouble is, I don’t always take the compositions in my head and put them down in words. So here are a few things on my mind at the end of your kindergarten year.

The other day I told you and M that if you could get all ready for bed, that we would go outside and see fireflies. I actually didn’t have fireflies where I grew up. I’m glad you do. The first time we went outside, it was too early, so we came in and read one more Raggedy Ann story, then went outside, you in your lime green Tinkerbell nightgown, M in a too-small pajama top and pink underwear.

I set up two Coleman camping chairs we leave in the corner of the front porch, but you really didn’t sit much. Instead you hopped from stone to stone in the front yard, and even caught a few in your cupped hands. Daddy came out after a while and was able to catch one or two and hold them gently between his fingers just-so. They flashed in indignation.

We have a box of popsicles with jokes on the sticks. One of them recently was, “How does the computer go fishing?” You said, “On-line,” but the printed answer was “With an internet.” I like your answer better.

Today was your last day of kindergarten. It was fun to look through all the stuff you brought home. Even seeing your pencil box gave me a wistful feeling, remembering that just a few short months ago it was filled with immaculate crayons and unsharpened pencils. Now there’s a grubby layer of colored wax on the inside of the box, and the pencils are nubs. Everything is worn down by the effort of your learning.

I enjoyed your writing journal most of all. You had a fine report card—right on track with 4’s in everything, indicating you are where one should be in the 4th quarter of the year—except for writing, which was a 5. I loved sitting on the couch with you today as you read and showed me the pictures. You were very clear to note which stories were fiction and which were non-fiction. I am also honored to be a major character in almost all of the stories. You shared with me the process you learned this year: “Think. Draw. Color. Write.”

All in all you seem to have had a great year at school. As your parents, we have few complaints with the school. It’s a bright, bustling place, with murals of happy children on the wall and multi-colored handprints painted on the columns. I love that you have friends with names like Rahel, Isha, Manoosh, and Miguel.

I don’t think you have been all that challenged academically. But you seem to be introverted enough that you can be content with your thoughts in between instructional times. And getting accustomed to school is an adjustment and challenge in itself. So I think you have been stimulated. Daddy and I have been thinking about how to make sure you are challenged and enriched without your being overextended. We’ve been wondering—piano lessons next year? I think it is time for you to have an activity. You really enjoyed the Hands On Science classes after school.

You did ask many times to go to L’s house after school this year. I know that you love your friends there but I also think that going there probably reminds you of a simpler time… I know you’re looking forward to being there three days a week this summer.

We’ve also signed you up for a week of VBS at our church, and a week of drama camp at one of the area high schools. You love putting on plays and dances for Daddy and me but have been very clear about your “stage fright”… until recently when you sang with the little preschool/kindergarten choir before the church service, a silly song called “Give Me Gas for My Ford.”

Recently you said, “I really prayed and prayed and prayed to God that I would have a baby brother, and look, here he is!” I don’t know whether you really did. I know I never heard you praying for that, though that doesn’t mean you didn’t. What I do know is that you are the kind of person who loves what is. You are almost always delighted by and grateful for what is in front of you… to the point that you might just assume it was what you wanted all along.

It’s a pretty good way to live.

Picture is from a few months ago. I love the flowers-for-hands. Also, what is that around her neck? A cross, or a stethoscope?