Dear Evie,
This is the first year that you’ll be able to read your birthday blog, although I’ll probably have to help you sound out a few of the words.

Five was a big year for you.

It was a year of learning and discovery. You started school at Excelsior Elementary, jumping into the Chinese immersion program with all the enthusiasm and joy that make you Evie.
Your teacher, Wu lao shi, tells us you’re doing great and love serving as an unofficial translator when your classmates need a little help. You were excited to identify the Chinese characters outside Tian Jin restaurant, though your interest in Chinese cuisine begins and ends with white rice and fortune cookies. You loved seeing the Terra Cotta warriors at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts with your aunt Kirsten, and you proudly made your own mini warrior at school. You want to go to China someday, maybe when you’re 10. I’ll take you, and we’ll look for a place that serves exceptional white rice.

It was a year of travel and adventures. You flew in a plane for the first time since you were a toddler, and we spent a magical long weekend at Disneyland. You slept in a caboose in Nebraska. You visited your cousins and grandmother in North Dakota, your friends in Wisconsin, and many people and places in Minnesota.

It was a good year for friends. You found a trio of nice girls in kindergarten, and you call yourselves a club. You befriended the boys who moved in next door and rode scooters until the snow fell; then you dragged sleds up the hill in our backyard. I love how easily you make friends with both girls and boys, bonding over the kindergarten cultural currency of My Little Pony, Star Wars, and Gangnam Style. Your favorite pony is Twilight Sparkle, and your favorite Jedi varies between Luke, Leia, and Mace Windu – whose lightsaber yours is modeled after.

It’s fun being your mom, Evie. The other night, you told me that your favorite thing is to make people laugh. You asked me if there’s a job in which you make people laugh, and I suggested that you could become a comedian. You told me you’d think about it, since you kind of wanted to be a clown but didn’t want to wear the nose. This might be just the solution you needed.

Each age that you’ve been, I’ve told myself that this is so magical and wonderful, that I can’t imagine it getting any better. And then it does.

I love the way you are, exactly, right now. I love how you give your toys names like “Pinkie Cutie.” I love how you run off and grab blankets, toys, and anything you think might cheer up your brother when he’s having a toddler tantrum. I love how you can’t help announcing the plot twists of movies, even after we tried explaining the concept of spoilers to you. I love that you call lightsabers “light savers” and Calico Critters “Mechanical Critters.” I love that when you’re doing a big smile for a camera, you smush up your nose in that expression we dubbed “scrunchy face” back when you were a baby.

You’re growing up to be a remarkable person, and I’m proud of who you are becoming. I’m also proud of who you are right now, at this very moment, as you turn 6.

Happy Birthday, Evie.

Love,
Mommy