Skip to main content

Five-Year-Old Redheadedness



I have often said that when I had Brooklyn I joined a club and I can't get out.  Apparently, having a redheaded newborn is cause for every person who has ever known, seen or dreamed of a redhead to stop and tell you all about said person.  This is always followed by the oh so popular "Where did she get her red hair?"  I have been tempted on more than one occasion to dye my hair a similar shade just to end the nonsense.  Why can't they just assume her father has red hair and leave it at that??  I digress. 

My sweet freckle faced girl turned five yesterday.  She had a tea party today with eight of her closest friends.  There were actually twelve on the list, but I made her cut a few.  That may be the theme of her life.  This little girl LOVES people.  She always has. 

Brooklyn is sensitive, sarcastic, artistic, ticklish, talks incessantly and hates being alone.  She loves unicorns, butterflies, rainbows, kittens, shopping, diamonds, gold and silver.  She is going to make some man very poor one day!  Her love language is acts of service.  She is very much a middle child and often reminds me of my brother who is also the middle child.  She makes us laugh every day.

At her preschool graduation, whenever someone told her congratulations she responded with "If you say that to me one more time, I am going to wrestle you to the ground!"  She has also coined the phrase "What in the heck of the world?!"  We often hear her telling our puppy "You have to be nice or we are not going to love you anymore." 


If Brooklyn gets into trouble or is upset about something, she will go to her room in tears and proceed to cry/talk to herself.  The conversation goes something like this "Nobody likes me.  I have to do everything myself.  Nobody ever helps me do anything.  This is not fair!  I love everybody but nobody ever loves me."  We are so excited to see what puberty has in store for this one! 

The years go by so quickly and we are doing our best to treasure each moment as we look forward to the next.  It has been an honor to watch our little Brooks grow into such a big girl.  We are excited to see what the next years bring.  Happy Birthday sweet girl!  For breakfast I am eating those freckles right off your nose!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

They Speak

I have a  friend  who does a weekly post of the crazy things her kids say.  While I am not committing to do this on a regular basis, my little's have had quite a few good ones lately.  Maybe this will add a little sunshine to a rainy day. Me: Are you excited to go to the beach next week? Brooklyn: No. Me: Why not? Brooklyn: The crabs. (Leaving the park in a rush after it started raining) Paige: Mom, is it hard to take care of three kids? Me: Why?  Does it look hard? Paige: No. Emerson: Me a boy. Me: What is mommy? Emerson: Mommy a girl. Me: What is Daddy? Emerson: Daddy a monkey! (Brooklyn was watching me clean out the seeds of a cantaloupe) Brooklyn: Ew! That is a gross job!  Will I have to do that when I'm a mom? If she only knew the grossness that lay ahead!

Mama's Sick

That's right, you heard it here first.  This mama's SICK!  I have fought off the runny nose-sore throat-head in a vice germs for months on end, but at last I have succumb.  Of course this misfortune must come on the same day as Ohio State's Bowl Game.  Try as he might, my dear husband has zero ability to hear ANYTHING that is happening when a football game is on.  Trust me.  I banged quite a few dishes around in the kitchen.  I even sighed loudly as I carried laundry in to fold.  Still...nothing.  He really does mean well.  He attempted to help with bedtime, but all three of those ankle bitters insisted on "mommy" putting them to bed.  He told me to go to bed as soon as he got home, but really ?  Can you imagine what the house would look like by morning???  I could have asked for help.  I should have asked.  Isn't that what my mother has been hammering into my head for the past 9 years?  "He doesn't see...

So Many Thoughts....

I'm not sure if I should laugh, cry, call a counselor, or buy another parenting book.