Alida

Last night before bed, you and I played Transformers together for half an hour.

You, my dear, are at home within and outside this loud family of ours.

I love it when I'm making dinner and you run through the kitchen on a mission, not looking up. About a minute later you'll run back through, perhaps flashing me a smile. With no explanation, you'll run back a minute later. I'll find you when dinner is ready, playing a game with just yourself somewhere.

You have been obsessed with chocolate milk ever since we started giving it to you in the name of weight gain. You will refuse certain kinds and are particular.

You love to play outside, by yourself, with everyone, making up a game with Elaine--doesn't matter as long as it's outside.

You nearly wrote your whole name last night.

Your laughter is from within and infectious.

You are a bright spot in our days.