Five

Julia fills a room. From this very small person comes an enormous force of self, and she makes her way into every inch of a space. Her voice, her smile, her endless energy; she takes it over completely. When Julia leaves a room, the silence is deafening.

She is exhausting.

She is a child of extremes, and she elicits extreme emotions from me. There are times when I find myself clenching my fists and gritting my teeth and using every ounce of willpower I have not to completely lose my mind with her. And other times, I love her so hard it feels like a giant hand is squeezing my heart until it might just burst inside of me. Julia is fierce, and that is how I love her - fiercely.

She is a whirling dervish - constantly moving, exceptionally loud, blindingly bright. She is the spirit of this family, and we would be considerably more dull without her.

Today, my girl in the middle is five years old. Today, I am going to dress like a pirate and surprise her at school and read to her class and take her to Chuck E Cheese for lunch, just the two of us. I am going to play every game she wants to and let her make a mess and not once, not once, tell her to be quiet. I am going to make her mashed potatoes and mac and cheese and salad for dinner, and let her have two pieces of cake if she wants to. I will let her stay up late and watch a movie and sleep in my room. And as she drifts off to sleep, I will kiss her head and whisper, Good night, Birthday Girl. You are perfect and I love you so much.