Tomorrow she will no longer be our two-year-old. She will gain a notch on her belt of years, be ready for more and so happy to hold up another finger when someone asks her how old she is.
As she yearns to fly fast through these younger years, I can't help but want to hold on tighter than I did with the others. There is something about the "baby," and knowing this is the last that seems to put everything into perspective. Tomorrow, we will sing, celebrate, blow out candles, open presents and hold you tight. We are delighted to celebrate you, dear girl.
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