Six

When I look at other peoples six year old's they have always resembled children in every way the same is not true when I look at my own six year old. Her hands are still so small and she is still in need of help from an adult hand more often then not. To me the six year old who resides in this house is still a baby, she still breaks in to tears with the slightest provoking, she still wants the guard railing on her bed which looks so big even when she is stretched out in it. She still takes a bath with her little sister the focus not on getting clean but getting adequate play time. She never asks for privacy I do not think she even knows what that is yet. She still likes her fruit cut in to little bite size pieces. I always thought that six years old's were fairly independent until I shared a house with one. But as life is riddled with so many contradictions baby is not a label that fits Ella, she can tell time, she can count to 212 ( I am not sure why she thinks she can not count any higher than that), she can get herself a cup of water or her own snack, she can look thing up on the Internet all by herself, and every day I am amazed at all the things she does that I did not help her learn. It is just that when I look at her and all her intelligence and Independence I still see my baby. Other six year old's are children I am not sure what my six year old is but it does not seem possible that she does not have at least a little bit of baby left in her.

I wrote this a while ago but never hit publish, so here it is now.