I distinctly remember the first time I realized I was a mature, self-sufficient human being. I was precisely five years old, and I recall spending the better part of one afternoon gazing at myself in the mirror, in sheer astonishment of how OLD I was getting. I thought to myself, “I’m FIVE. FIVE is BIG. Five is SO BIG!”

And now, my dear, sweet baby – the baby of our family – is FIVE! I wonder what goes on in that noggin of hers. Does she marvel at her age, her wisdom, like I did? She has empathy, the biggest heart, a nurturing nature. Her dream when she grows up is to be a mama. Her favorite color is golden. Her best friend is Sugar, our cat (her sister, Gigi is tied for that distinction). She adores The Greatest Showman soundtrack and dances with abandon in fields for me at whim. She’ll play Mario all day if you’d let her. She’s got joy; she radiates life.

Emmy, you’re the heartbeat of our family. We love you so much, sweet girl. Happiest Birthday to you!