Happy Birthday Little Monkey.

Five. I could still pretend five was a baby. Five was not in school. Five did not come with full sentences and correct grammar and a sudden five pound gain after years of weighing 33 pounds or less. Six did.

Six it seems, turned my Little Monkey into a girl. Not a baby. But a big girl. This is the year of the most profound changes. The most significant accomplishments. This past year, I have been blown away by everything you have done. Have far you have come.

This year you started Kindergarten with your class. In a mainstream classroom. Three years ago as you entered PPCD, we were told there was no chance of that. In fact, we were told to prepare for the fact that you may never be in a mainstream classroom. But here you are. Reading on level. Writing far beyond your grade level. Taking Spanish classes. Loving art. Hating PE. Performing either on target or ahead of your class in everything.

You have done a lot of things you shouldn't have. Shouldn't have according to a whole slew of doctors. Doctors that shake their head in wonder with every visit. You are their miracle patient. You are that one. According to your doctors, you were not supposed to live much past your first birthday. Then they said, "She won't sit, crawl, walk or talk." I think you proved to them that you had some other plans. You still struggle. You still scare the hell out of me sometimes. But here you are.

You are silly and sweet. Every morning as the bus pulls off you hold your hands up to the window in the shape of a heart. You wait in the front window for Daddy to come home. You love to cuddle on the couch with Macy. You spend your days following your sister around. You are suddenly eating, and you certainly have some favorite foods. You love sushi. Anyone can with your heart over with a crunchy roll. Want to make you really happy? Take you out for crab. Drink of choice? Brown milk. Call it chocolate milk, and you won't drink it. You also love coffee. Love. You steal mine, if I leave it unattended. You love to color. You just came into the office and asked me for "a thousand fifty hundred" pieces of paper to bring to your room. If I try to take your picture, you strike a pose.

You decided this year your hair would be long. A first. You normally wear it short. I think this change came about, because you now wear your processors over the ear. Speaking of ears, you got your ears pierced. It was what you asked for for your birthday. Along with Lanie, the American Girl doll of the year, and a scooter. All of which you got. You wanted a rainbow cake. I think you would have been happy with a cake with a rainbow on it, but we all know Mommy can't just leave it at that. So you got a rainbow cake. Six layers. Homemade icing. Nine batches of icing. And I still did not have enough.

Pretty much, I would do anything for you. Even stay up all night baking a rainbow cake.

I still can't believe you are six, Ems. Happy Birthday Little E. I hope this next year is everything you wished for.