Our family had only known grandsons before you.
And so, with bated breath, everyone was hoping that you would be a girl.
But no one knew that you would come out of the womb, the most beautiful, sweet, feisty, funky ball of sass and love that the world had ever seen.
You, my middle child, my first daughter. My little one who read complete sentences by the age of three and who corrects my grammar and the injustices of the world around her.
You who walks around in mix matched tights and dresses with braids, cowboy hats, princess tutus and a mind that is always cranking out the most amazing and bold thoughts like, "Mama, why do you have a spiky vagina?"
You who looks like me, but is far more self assured, far more indulgent to the present moment, far more willing to love the red in the rose and the brown in the chocolate, and the warmth in the hug.
You who I would die for and nearly did when you hit your head on the diving board yesterday and then hours later, landed on your neck and back falling off of a trampoline.
You who is fearless, focused, capable, beautiful and aware....may you know today and always (especially when I am not here to tell you daily), that you are loved, you are wanted, and that the world is a brighter, more loving place because of you.
Happy Birthday, Kate.