Sally. Fourth.

Sally, my lovely love. It's hard to believe that we first saw your sweet face only four years ago.

And yet, it's been a lifetime since that quiet, rainy Friday night. Your lifetime.


You are so dear to us, Sally girl, with your hair like honey and your eyes like sapphires.

With your seven hundred purses, full of lip gloss and Matchbox cars.

With your frilly dresses and dirty knees.

You are so much fun to be around, and I'll tell you a secret: you are the baby that made Daddy and me want to have a thousand more babies.

You've brought us so much joy.

You are the exact middle of our family, with a sister and brother before you and a sister and brother after you.

That's a pretty special spot, my love. It takes a strong girl to hold that position.

So today we will sing to you in your bed, while you are still warm with sleep.

We will let you apply as many coats of lip gloss as you want.

We will not object when you want to wear your Sunday best out in the dirt pile.

You will have your pink cake with pink frosting, and you will eat it, too.

And above all, we'll make sure you know that it's the center that holds.

We love you, Sally. Happy Birthday.