Four years ago, this little baby (quite literally) popped out of me. A bawling babe then, she has since grown (though by not a lot), into Little Ms Petite. But what she doesn't have in size, she makes up for in speech.
Over the years, she has progressed from baby babbling to sentences that explicitly expresses her observations and wants, to vividly describing her thoughts and imagination, and to recent times of correcting us on our 'wrong english'.
A bite on her nugget later, she exclaims that it "looks like a boot. So funny right?"
Or when a piece of slightly chao-tah fried chicken is put on her plate, she tells us that she doesn't "want this piece because it looks so dirty."
To kor kor when he says a sentence wrong, "No. Not 'shot'. Its 'shoot'. Like 'you shoot me.'"
To her grandmother, who accidentally tells her to pass the phone to ah-gong. "No, not 'her'. It's 'him' because Gong-Gong is a boy!"
Sings "~Beauty and the maaan..." and when I correct her, she tells me that since the beast has become a man, we must not sing it as 'Beauty and the beast' anymore.
And like all little girls, she dreams of being a princess and meeting her prince one day. With the latest craze in Frozen, she tells me she is Elsa while I am Anna, and points to Prince Hans as a 'bad prince because he pretend to love Anna.'
While I am continually amazed at her (at times rather astute) thinking, I am similarly aware that my baby girl is growing more and more as the days pass by.
This year as she turns four, her cake of choice is (no suprise) a Frozen cake. Sitting by the gigantic cake this afternoon, she smiled shyly as her school of nursery friends sang her the birthday song. And in tune with her current obsession, friends and family have also kindly gifted her with a variety of Frozen item-ed presents.
I watched as she approached the small pile of presents with a mixture of surging happiness and shyness. And as she (with a lot of help from kor-kor) ripped open the presents with glee, leaving papa to collect the torn scraps of wrapper strewn all over the floor, I couldn't help but think that my baby girl has grown so much, so fast.
My little chatty, helpful girl, who complains incessantly about her brother, with the kooky thinking, quirky taste, two teeth less, who writes her 'a' lopsidedly, colours on her colouring book with only one single colour per page irregardless that there are seven princesses pictured together, says the funniest things I've ever heard, the one who shares her wild imagination, tells me 'I love you' and 'goodnight' multiple times before she sleeps every night, is already Four.
And the sobering truth that one day, she will grow up and then she wouldn't want to be celebrating her birthdays with us anymore, creeps into my thoughts.
But I take heart because in meantime and for a few years more, I can still be her Co-cake-knife-handler, assistant candle-blower, be witness at her 'presents-opening-ceremony', and papa will retain the honorable title of the 'official strewn-wrapper-crusher'.
So, Happy Birthday my Sweetheart! Don't grow up too fast.
Wishing you happiness and health, and everything good.
Love, Hugs and Kisses,
Papa & Mama.
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