Wednesday, June 18th, was Pie's fifth birthday. It's hard to believe she's been with us for so long. On the day of her birth, Powell came to wake me up in the guest bedroom of Grand Ma Normal Family's house, announcing with dramatic flourish, "Pie has arrived." Indeed she had.
It's been so strange for me, watching her transform from a helpless baby to an adorable toddler, and, in something of a surprise, into a gangly and wild little girl with a mind of her own. She's no longer perfect to me, the infallible paragon of purity and rightness that she once was, but that's a natural part of life.
As she's gotten older, she's developed annoying habits, adopted the indescribably-grating practice of whining and crying when she doesn't get her way, and even on occasion demonstrated a real mean streak. She could sometimes be described as a brat. In other words, she's five.
A few years ago, this realization of her humanity would have dismayed me, but the way I interact with her is as much indicative of my improved emotional maturity as it is of her march into childhood.
I love Pie deeply. She is beautiful, intelligent, strong, and fun-loving.
I hope that the affection and support with which she is surrounded will help her grow into a happy and well-adjusted person, someone spared the myriad mental difficulties that have beset me.
She'll start kindergarten next year, a fact that I find amazing. Even more unbelievable is the knowledge that she'll continue to grow, will a year from now be six, nine years from now will start high school, and thirteen years from now, in 2021, will have graduated. All of that seems so far away. But it will, with God's blessing, come.
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