Willa, you are five years old. On the day you were born, you snuggled into my neck as I held you and lifted your head to coo. On your birthday two days ago, you hopped onto your new red, shiny scooter and had it mastered in a few minutes. You amaze me. You delight me.
Your 5th birthday happened to coincide with Sinki family cabin fever and dad's vacation time. So, up to Traverse City we went. In the morning, you woke up in the hotel with mom's premade, frozen, and then microwaved pancake breakfast in bed.
And then a brief photo shoot.
Followed by a few presents:
We also walked on the beach right outside our room:
You and Henry flew kites with Dad's help:
We took a little drive to Leeland, where the only fish we saw were an inch long and crammed hundreds in a square foot:
There was a lot of swimming in the pool, and fun at meals out, and few, but sweet quiet moments in the hotel room.
You are five now. On your first full day of five, we visited Old Mission State Park and the four of us walked on the beach. In the past few months, you've been fearful of new things. Falling down or not doing things right worry you. I was so, so proud of you when you followed me out to the tip of the rocks to put your fingers in Lake Michigan. You are growing up. And while I'm sad that it's happening so quickly, I'm pleased that you're becoming stronger and bolder while maintaining your sweetness, your compassion, your smarts, and your humor.
Every day, I am grateful for the gift of being your mom.