O Evabird, today you are three. 1095 days since you came flying into the world, and every hour I fall a little bit more in love with you.
This is what you like to play: waitress and violin and sit-n-spin and school. You twirl in circles and take all of our orders and when you get tired of that, you make us gather on the floor in a circle and you play your ukulele and sing little ditties.
These are the words you like to say: ice cream and love and play dough and poems. And these are the words you like to type: mom, dad, love, nana, papa, hayley, anna, and then over and over: eva, eva, eva.
(Your very own mantra, my very own mantra.)
Mornings, you wake up long before the sun comes up, and we walk to the bakery for a coffee and a muffin. You hold my hand, and we talk about the weather, and you ask me if it’s still November. And for so many days now you’ve asked, Is it my birthday yet? Is it today?
And finally, this morning, I say, Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Happy birthday my little love, my dreamer, my whole world changer. Only 3 years in, and already, you are the wisest, sweetest, most loving person I’ve ever known.