The End of First Grade--A Letter to Eliza

Oh my little Eliza. How does time go so quickly? You just ended first grade. You seem to be sprinting to the next thing. You "can't wait" for so many things. Second grade, your birthday, Christmas, our vacation. I wish we could all just take a breath and relish this moment. Like this moment when you are delighted by creating a new recipe. This is the newest creation. Cherry dumplings. We all loved it.

You just finished first grade. You seem so much more grown up now. Instead of being a little kid, you are just a kid now. You have eaten lunch at school all year, taken the bus half of the year, and proved me time and again how loving and angelic you are.

Not everyday was so sweet. You often came home tired from a long day at school. You had friends that were kind and then not so kind. You sang popular songs that you heard on the radio on the bus. This maybe didn't seem so sad to you. But it made my heart sad to see how you preferred teenage singers now instead of children's silly songs. A change that seemed to happen over night.

I feel sad that you are growing up so fast, but in other ways I am not so sad. I love the girl you are turning out to be. You are tough, kind, confident, loving, empathetic, and so caring of your sisters. Not to mention you are so incredibly smart. Sometimes you astound me at how much knowledge you just absorb.

You have an amazing grasp of spiritual things. You read and understand the scriptures--at seven years old! When we ask you what something means in the scriptures you can tell us!

Look how much you have grown up in the last year! You are such a blessing to me, Daddy, and your little sisters! You care for them so much.  I love how much you adore your baby sister. And maybe you can't tell right now, but what you and Miriam have--that is best friend material.

I love you darling girl! I love your delight in the Narnia books. We finally finished reading that series together. It only took me a year and a half to read them to you. If it had been up to you we would have read them the first week we got them. You reread them all the time. I am astounded that your interest has not waned on those books. You talk about them too, theorizing with me, and laughing at your favorite parts.

You keep me laughing too. Maybe this won't be funny to you now, but someday it will.

Like how you always tell Holland that she is "the best baby in the world right now." Of course this is because you and Miriam were also the best babies.

How you asked me out of the blue one day, "So how does the sperm cell get to the egg cell?" That is my anatomically correct girl!

When you told Holland, "I don't want to have to step over you youngster." Then you turned to me and matter-of-factly said, "That means young monster."

When we went on a hike and you kept saying the funniest things, "That bug must think my face is a beautiful flower because it won't leave me alone." And, "Did that bug have to hit me like a bullet?"

When Daddy asked you how long you have been awake, "An hour, or maybe ten minutes, but I think an hour."

Then there are the good ideas you have: opening a milk jug with a knife. Using the same knife to try to saw an opening in another empty milk jug, stacking two chairs and a stool to stand on top of--all in the hopes of making and hanging a bird house.

I love you sweet girl! You are a light in my life!

Love,

Mommy