Six

The End by AA Milne
When I was One
I had just begun.
When I was Two,
I was nearly new.
When I was Three,
I was hardly Me.
When I was Four,
I was not much more.
When I was Five,
I was just alive.
But now I am six,
I’m as clever as clever.
So I think I’ll be six now for ever and ever.

My very own Pooh Bear turns six today. Is it really the end? Yes, in many ways. Though she's not entirely differently from yesterday, I see something, a sparkle of knowing, in her eyes. Our preschool days as a family are now finished as she's officially entered a new developmental plane. Toddler wonder makes way for more complex thought; and I'm going to miss pure toddler wonder.

She refers to things she used to do not so many months ago as "when I was a little." I whisper into the back wisps of her hair, "Stay here in my arms while you still fit." On Pooh Bear's last birthday, she could have passed for an oompa loompa, but now her willowy limbs spill over my lap like long pieces of spaghetti.

She's missing her two front teeth for Christmas, and she does whistle slightly when she talks. Perfect.

For her birthday present, I located a large and furry stuffed lavender pony with a pink velveteen saddle and silver hooves just about the size of her petite frame. Just now, she's dragging the animal behind her by it's bridle and speaking softly to it, "Let's go."

Six will not last forever, and I intend to make the most of it with my girly. Let's go.