It’s hard to believe, but the nine-pound baby who entered this world after just two and a half hours of labor, who turned her head and looked up into my eyes when I entered the room, though she was only a day old at the time, is now five years old. Mythili, who has the wisdom of an old crone and the patience of a stalking cat. As my mother has always said about her, she has been here before, she has lived another life.
Mythili amazes me with her creativity, her imaginative nature, and her ability to logically explain everything that she encounters. She is an artist, a singer, a dancer, and, above all, a storyteller. Nothing pleases her more than cuddling up with a good book to read, either on someone’s lap or flipping through the pages in her own imaginary world. She will take any two objects, from Q-tips to Barbies, and create conversations from things she has heard grown-ups say, things she has read in books, or bits and pieces of her favorite movies. She admires everything her older sister does and proudly demonstrates her knowledge to her younger sister. She is the perfect middle child, a balance of Isabella’s ferocious independence and Riona’s angelic spirit: she is both slightly free and anxious to please.
For her birthday this year, she asked only for her ears to be pierced. And though we thought she’d change her mind, she persisted, not only holding back even the slightest wince, but grinning from ear to ear. “Did it hurt, did it hurt?” Isabella demanded, still too frightened of the pain to venture, and Mythili calmly responded, “Not at all.” She’s ready to be all grown up, and in so many ways I already see her as such, but then she searches for blankey, sticks her finger in her mouth, snuggles in my lap, and I know that, even though she is five now, she is still my little girl.
Happy birthday Mythili!
