That’s you Baby Greta. Five years. That’s what you called yourself when anyone asked you your name, up until about 3 years old. They would say, “and what’s your name little girl?” And you would look at them and say, “Baby Gweta”. And it would melt my heart.
You no longer are the baby, but you will forever be my baby. This year has been a big one for you. I was so apprehensive of you starting a new preschool for this final year before Kindergarten, and you have thrived. And I mean thrived. Your school teachers adore you. At our last teacher conference they commented on how wonderful you are, so obedient, so social, just a joy to have in class. At the same time they commented on something that has worried me for years. You my love are a very sweet, very sensitive girl. And because of that sensitivity, sometimes a mean word or shove can crumble you to pieces. I cannot tell you how much I wish that I could be there every single time someone will be unkind to you, or every time someone pushes you. But I wouldn’t trade your tenderness for anything. You are the most amazing little helper to Romeo. You adore him beyond anything I imagined. You treat him with such love and all you ask in return is a smile. And he gives you plenty of those.
A few weeks ago was your Kindergarten tour day where I took you to see the kinder classes and you got to pretend for a morning that you were one of them. You sat on the rug, you heard a story, you did a craft, you played on their yard. All with a little kindergarten buddy chosen for you. This was not so easy for your mama however. The instant we walked through the front doors, (the same doors I walk through every single day with you to get your brothers), I was a goner. I cried and then I cried some more. And then a little more. Even after it was all over, I was standing in the post office line, and all of a sudden, just started to cry. I am not quite ready to let my last little one leave for school. It’s not that I think I will be lonely, or won’t find things to take up the day and my time, but I am mourning for the chapter that is closing. No longer are we going to spend our afternoons together or have lunch dates. No longer will it be me and you. You are moving on to great things. And I should be so grateful that I just get to sit here and watch.
But in the back of my mind you are not 5 years old. I cannot shake from my mind the little girl that I just gave birth to. The little girl that changed this whole family and brought her big brothers to mush. The one that has her daddy wrapped around her little finger. This little girl is the one I can’t quite let go of just yet.
At the moment you and Sawyer are thick as thieves. You play together for hours and make each other giggle. I can be anywhere and hear the two of you together and I leave whatever I’m doing just to come watch and get a glimpse of what the two of you are up to. Recently, you two slept over at your Nanni and Papa’s house and it was all set up for each of you to have your own room. That is until you both walked into Nanni’s bedroom and requested that you sleep together. Who can say no to that? So sweet.
You still ask me for a baby almost daily. I was ill a few weeks ago and when I was better you asked me if I could have a baby. I explained to you that remember on Tuesday how sick I was? I couldn’t take you to school? I couldn’t pick you up or pack your lunch? I couldn’t even have dinner with you? If I have a baby in my belly, that’s how sick I get, for a long time. And your response? You told me, “That’s okay mama. Daddy can take me to school.” You are quite desperate for more kiddies to fill this house. And if I could guarantee that they would be like you, I may just have to give in to that one.
You love to give me snuggles and hugs and kisses. And at night you like daddy or me to tell you a story and you have to guess what is wrong with it. For instance, the other night I told you about a little 8 year old girl who was going to be late for school, so she quickly packed up her backpack, grabbed her lunch, got in her car, and zoomed to school. She found a parking spot nearby and then ran into the school just in time to teach the math lesson. You figured it out right from the start that 8 year olds can’t drive and aren’t teachers. And you love for me to tell you REAL stories. Stories that happened to me or someone I know. You also make certain that I tell you how long ago this story occurred, and you like to triple and quadruple check that it’s indeed REAL.
In preparing this post for you I was watching video clips of you as a baby and a toddler and a little girl. And after watching all those videos, I keep coming back to this one. This is exactly how I remember you. It’s this little girl who is 2 years old telling an elaborate story, yes, you may be sitting on a potty while creating this fable. But this is the Greta that will forever remain in my memory and heart. The way you said certain words like, “security guard”, “alive”, “flashlight", and even the way you said the word “mama”. This is how I see you. This is the little girl that I long for. And no matter how old you get my Greta, you forever and ever will be my Baby Greta. Enjoy being 5 my love!