If this 4th birthday letter has any theme, it is this: the months between 3 and 4 have been a year of understanding a world much bigger than yourself. You are curious beyond the boundaries of your 38 inches, our four walls, and the roughly five mile radius we travel to school and back each day. You ask big questions. You’re constantly thinking: about the books we read, the things you hear on the radio, and the things you see people doing at any moment.
“Mommy, will Donald Trump decide to be a good person now that he is president?”
“Does God exist in real life?”
“Did God make all the people in the world?”
“I’m sad that Hillary Clinton lost. But that’s okay. Maybe she can try again tomorrow?”
“When I die, will this tissue still be here? Will you still save this drawing I did after I die?”
Your innocence is perfectly entwined with your developing conscience; your optimism and your sense of justice are still able to operate in their own vacuums. You’re curious enough to be hungry for everything new, but you haven’t seen, heard, and watched enough to become jaded.
Please don’t, not ever.
With your never ending questions you’ve started to form your sense of self, and your understanding of how people relate to one another. You’re trying to recognize your place in all of it, which is a gargantuan task for a four year old mind. It’s no surprise that we put you to bed at 7:30, but you sometimes sneak out to watch us in the living room at 9:15. You are too busy to sleep! You have things to figure out!
You and I had a special moment on the night of election day, 2016. We talked all week about going to the polls to vote for Hillary. We drove through Scarborough with our windows down, Florence and the Machine blaring, and you exclaimed “Girl time! Mommy and Charlotte are going to vote for Hillary Quipment!” It was exciting and novel–but not because we were going to vote for a woman. No, the gender wasn’t even remarkable. You were just excited to go show your vote, to take part in the grown up process.
The next morning, I cried. I cried before you woke up, and I cried after I brought you to school. I was so heartbroken that I couldn’t joyfully tell you we had the first woman president, that you’d have to wait longer in your life to see it. And the weeks and months since have been difficult, as your mom: waiting, watching, and wondering what kind of world my baby girl is going to grow into. Will it be one that respects her rights?
But I’ve taken solace in a few places that may become iconic as we look back on 2016:
Hillary Clinton said, in her concession speech: “And to all of the little girls who are watching this, never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and achieve your own dreams.”
Barack Obama told us in his farewell address, that his proudest accomplishment was raising two daughters that are smart and beautiful, but more importantly kind, thoughtful, and full of passion. That is my hope–no, my goal of every single day–for you, Charlotte. That your every move is motivated by a sense of purpose bigger than yourself, one that looks outward, and still seeks to welcome people in.
You do, already, in your four year old way.
You were the first to welcome a shy girl to a busy and loud birthday party–to draw her into a room full of extroverts by providing her a quiet hand and a smile.
By greeting your teacher at 7am: “I noticed you got a haircut! Wow, it looks good!”
“Baxter, I’m sorry you fell. What can I do to help you? Do you need some ice?”
Just keep on asking, listening, and thinking. Keep on talking. Keep on helping, smiling, and sharing. And most of all, keep believing. Believe that you are kind, you are smart, and you are important. That is what will take you far.
Happy Birthday! With all my love and even more pride,