Yesterday, you turned four.
You wanted dry cheerios for breakfast, for the first time, didnt cry when I measured you. You watched "robots" all day - Iron man and Transformers.
When I left you at school, you screamed so loud in anger that everybody actually stopped and looked.
when I picked you up, you ran to me, calling out "Thats the mama!" and gave me a hug.
When I put you to bed, you pouted, and it was only after I went on a ramble, that I got a response from you. I said "I know that mama can be stupid sometimes" and you rolled your eyes as if to say "no shit" - and promptly stuck your finger up your nose.
Which thankfully, I know is my cue to take the finger out saying "Nooooo nononono" and start tickling you madly - and I knew that whatever I had done to upset you, I was forgiven.
You dont really talk, and it makes life very hard for us. But we know you are smart. We believe you to be already borderline genius, just from what we can see that you understand. Comments like the one above. Or your ability to remember entire movie scripts so easily.
You love dinosaurs, fairy's, and robots. You have a pink blanket. Its your "beeka" still. You dont carry it around with you as much as you used to, but you still do occasionally. Your Grandma and Grandpa Trehearne got it for you when you were born. It used to have stars and moons imprinted on it. They are long gone.
Your faverate colors are pink and purple. You like bright, loud, and sparkly clothes. We tend to call you our little rock star. or our little Nicole Kidman. The first thing anybody ever says upon seeing you is how beautiful your hair is, and I think you, along with us, are already tired of hearing about it.
I love your eyes, and your lips, even more. You have the most perfect little bow tie pout. And the clearest, bluest eyes, under those red bangs.It combines to make you a rather shockingly beautiful child. And since you are smart, and very obviously a Type A personality (like mama) - You're going to have a rough time of things.
You love to boss people around that you know. Your brother suffers under your lash most often. You get so angry, when he doesnt do what you want him to. You've hit him, and even pushed him down the stairs twice. But he adores you. And you love him. My faverate moments, these days are when you two are cuddling on the couch together, or on good mornings, when you give him a kiss before we leave you at school.
Youve been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. And yes, Im a horrible mother. You have a touch of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. When you get older, please dont use that against me - I feel bad about it already, and am still trying to come to grips with the constant guilt and grief there.
At the same time, Im not going to go easy on you. I went my whole life on the spectrum, with FAS, and it was undiagnosed. And if I can get where *I* am - you can definitely go further, with the knowledge and assistance available to you.
You have some amazing strengths. You love to organize and have amazing fine motor skills. You can stack the tiniest thing, and the largest, with a natural precision that alot of adults cant compare with. You have unlimited patience for a task, and can be content for hours, doing one thing. You are a perfectionist. And want things just how you want them, and love to clean.
There have been days, where you have cleaned your own room, made your own bed, then moved on and done the same in Jades, and then *ours*. Granted, you tend to toss daddies blanket on the ground, and spread mine out to cover the whole bed, and get angry at him for messing it up, by putting his up. (His, my dear, is the Queen sized blanket, mine is just a twin) But you do a good job, never the less.
You also love to fight with your brother over who helps me clean the kitchen. Emptying and restocking the dishwasher, mostly - but you are getting big enough, almost to start putting things away too.
You dont like unloading groceries, quite as much though, and that tends to be your brothers faverate thing.
The entire time Ive been sitting here, typing this, you have sat in silence, at the end of the couch, intently watching Ironman. Sometimes you rock back and forth a bit, but otherwise, theres nothing. Your brother, has been sitting in the easy chair, vocalizing the oddest sounds. I think you like it, in part, because Pepper Pots is a red head too.
You are a Daddies Girl, of course. Wrapped around your finger tight and secure. But when you get hurt, you still come to me.
You - Akiva Grace, are a shooting star. I fiery, energetic, mesmerizing, ball of sparkle and optimism. You already understand restraint, and when to just let loose.
You amaze us daily, and I couldnt love you any more then I do this moment. You have redefined my world, and I adore you for it.
Happy Birthday, Akiva.
sweetness... <3
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