When I was one,

I had just begun.

When I was two,

I was nearly new.

When I was three,

I was hardly me.

When I was four,

I was not much more.

When I was five,

I was just alive.

But now I am six,

I’m as clever as clever.

So I think I’ll be six now

Forever and forever. – A.A.Milne

My darling wee girl–

I have always, always, adored that A.A. Milne poem. While I know he is so well known for creating stories about a certain honey loving bear, I have always loved that poem the best. And yet…today I am filled to the brim with knowledge of something that has been creeping up on me, all week, all month, really the last few months: tomorrow, You Are Six.

As you have crept closer and closer to Six these last few months, I have been trying, even more than I usually do (and so you know that is saying a lot!) to soak up every last bit of Five. Because I have absolutely, positively, one hundred times infinity without a doubt loved Five. Even more than I loved Four. Even more than I loved Three. Even more than I loved Two. Even more than I loved One. And dare I say it, even more than I loved minutes-old Zoe Bee.

And no, if you had asked me the moment after you were born (heck, if I’m being honest, the moment after I found out you were growing in my tummy) if I ever thought I would love you more than that moment, I would have sworn up and down and sideways that you stole my heart from that moment on and I couldn’t possibly love you more than I already did.

And while that is sort of true, it’s also sort of not true. Because with each moment we spend together, each time you grab my hand walking down the street or indulge me in dancing to “Welcome to My House” by Flo Rida while we’re out for dinner (since you had just told me, moments before, that that was the only song you would dance to in public with me), each time you’re a compassionate friend or a brave soul who remembers that “[she] can do hard things” (Glennon Doyle), I love you a little bit more –even when I thought my heart was full past the brim with love for you, my wee beauty. And in fact I like you just that much more each day. Because you are this joy-filled, beautiful soul who makes me burst with pride each time one of your friends calls me “Zoe’s Mum.”

But back to this Six thing.

You see, Six is kind of a biggie. It’s a leap in clothing divisions (Six is not a toddler size anymore); it’s a leap in school (Grade One instead of Kindergarten); and, as I’ve noticed these last few months, it’s a leap from little kid to actual child.

And so, if I seem a bit wistful it isn’t because I doubt, for even a millisecond, that I won’t love Six. Because I have seen it peeking out from behind Five’s shadow for quite some time and I see all the incredible things it brings along with it. I have seen glimpses of the person that you have always been and yet are still growing into and my gosh, wee girl, You Are Love.

So no, it’s not Six that is making me wistful. It’s just that once in a blue moon your mama wishes she could hold onto a little teensy piece of Five.

Except that as I write this, I realize that that’s exactly the point of writing this blog-maybe I write these posts not just for you but for me, too, so I can keep the teensiest bit of Five and Four and Three and Two and One and Just-Born Wee Bee tucked away in a corner of my heart, right next to where Six is sneaking in tomorrow.

I love you more than anything in the whole wide world. Happy Day You Are Six, Wee Bee.