it's happening...

when i tell my girlies to stop doing something they may not necessarily want to stop doing, they usually have distinctly different responses.

lillie's is a scowl, raised eyebrows, and a no. i wish you could hear the way she says it. i would very much like to see if the sound of her no makes your insides all boiled.



grae has a different tactic. she plays the martyr. why?! i do everything around here. everything! be sure to pronounce everything with a six-syllable wail.

esmé's a little different. say that i tell her to stop painting her nails on the persian. she turns and looks at me with wide blues and a little o of a mouth and answers it's happening. like she's on a coaster and can't possibly stop.

no more brown sugar in your oats.

mom? it's happening.

do not crack that egg!

mommy! it's happening!

she turned six yesterday. she was convinced it would be the most magical day of her short little life, and we tried our best to make it so.

the pile of six presents were perfect. she stopped for a second before she opened them and told us she was so happy that we were her family. that she had the best parents in the world and the best sisters in the world and she was just...happy. really really really really happy. just...

ok, sally field. you may open your presents now.




my mom says that mémé really knows how to work the system. i find that funny. true, but funny. i mean, it's not like she's in prison, charming the warden for more mashed potatoes.

a few days earlier, uncle sugar measured her. he marked the wall about two inches short of her actual height. we measured her again on her birthday after cake, and she felt like a giant.

exactly how a freshly-six should feel.

the night before, i'd begged her not to fall asleep. i was dead serious, and i can't believe i was. the way my heart was skipping beats surprised even me.

i guess i couldn't bear the thought of her going to bed five. waking up six. even now, it still makes my stomach clench. like i'm on a coaster and can't possibly stop.

don't go to sleep yet, mémé, i begged. one more five-year old kiss.

mom, she murmured. it's happening.

i know it is.

images here. and i can't BELIEVE how sweet you were with your comments about our photos. like, i feel pink and at a loss for words and super awkward. you're nice. i hope someone gives you really good compliments this weekend. i'll start. your legs look skinny in those jeans. there. xoxo.