FOUR.
You slink around us with such a smug, gorgeous, satisfying belief in yourself. You believe in unicorns and you think anyone not wearing pink is suspect.
FOUR.
I'd like to write novels about the things I have yet to teach you, the lessons I'm wistful to pass along like family heirlooms worn with time and a million second chances.
The truth is you came along and became my anchor. You keep me from straying too far into the past and tug me back gently when I get too anxious about a future I can't predict.
You're only FOUR, but a thousand times a day you show me magic, teach me temperance and remind me over and over again why every day I wake hoping to do the very best I can.
You are magic, love. You are worthy, you are able, you are kind. You are magic.
