Scarlet turned four last month. Four. I don’t know how that happened so quickly, but it did. I’m pretty sure I brought her home from the hospital last week– a little bundle of soft cheeks and black hair swaddled in one of those pink, white and blue flannel blankets they give you at the hospital.
No. It has been four years since that day. Four fun years.
Four is fun. Four is jumping up and down. Four sings. A lot. Four likes Lady GaGa (Baby GaGa) and the Little Mermaid. And Care Bears. Don’t forget the Care Bears. Four wants to pick up her little sister and carry her around, even though it means they end up on the floor in a tangle of crying faces and waving legs. Four is starting to understand nuance. Four is precious.