For My Francie

Here it is, baby, your last year in single digits.

I shouldn't be surprised that it has come to pass already; I have rushed your growth from the day you were born. It hasn't been fair of me, but it is the truth.

You are my first, for better or worse.

I rely on you,

I get by on you,

I scold you when I should hold you.

You're a mother hen, a gem, a wild one and a mild one.

You are a big sister, a baby kisser, a boo-boo mender, and befriender.

You're long-legged, warm-hearted, and you've just started.

You are nine, you are very fine, and you are mine.

Happy Birthday, Francie. We love you.