Today is your birthday Angel, and I am allowed to call you that. Angel, that is, not precious or blondie or heaven forbid, trixy, but Angel you have allowed. You are still a spunky little girl, dishing out as much or more as you get from your brothers. You have turned into quite the competent helper. You help me fold laundry and hang up clothes and put you and your brothers clothes away. You know where most everything is in the house when I need it, even when Grant and Daddy don’t.
Though you still have your moments of outright defiance, most of your insane stubborn streak has mellowed out, for that we are eternally grateful.
You are enjoying coloring and crafts of any sort these days. We have your pictures gracing our walls in frames and every magnetic surface in the house. Family portraits are a regular, with one brother or the other left off if they’ve been particularly mean to you in the recent past and friends added into the family because you love them.
You still enjoy laughing at every opportunity, and even though what you choose to laugh at is rarely of my choosing, I still enjoy hearing your exuberant laughter filling the air.
You are loved and adored by all of us. You are the glue that holds your brothers together. They both want to play with you, so the three of you play together. There is more about you than can possibly fit in a letter. Your depth at four is already beyond my capacity of understanding.
Just never forget that we love you, especially me.
Love you Angel.