Ana’s Eighth Birthday

Dear Ana,

Today is your eighth birthday. 

You’re proof that dynamite comes in small packages, and while I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to legally ride in a car without a booster seat (sigh), you’ve already learned to compensate by wearing high heels at least three times a week.  (You’re a problem solver, after all.)

You are the spitting image of your Papi, right down to the large hand gestures and huge eyes you employ when something has really surprised and/or impressed you.  You keep telling me, though, that you’ll never grow a beard like him.  (Let’s hope not.)

You’re genuine in your faith, and you’re quick to recognize and verbalize (to anyone who will listen) how Jesus is relevant to all of the issues and dilemmas you face every day.  And you explain these things with very, very, very long and detailed explanations.  (I love that about you.)

You sincerely want to be liked by those around you, but you know that popularity isn’t everything.  And you’ve picked this up mainly by reading books that are above your age level, not through hard experience.  (How I hope you never forget this, even when you experience it in real life!) 

You’re an exceptional student who exceeds everyone’s expectations but your own, and you work harder than anyone I’ve ever known when it comes to studying.  (You tell me college will be awesome because there’s always homework in college.)

You tell me that you’re not “bi-engels” at all, but I’ve watched you carry on long conversations with Spanish speakers who always tell me that you sound as if you’ve spoken two languages your whole life.  (And you enjoy correcting my pronunciation when I attempt to help you out with homework.)
You love the library and can regularly be found hiding in your closet after we’ve tucked you in, just so you can read one more chapter.  (I would do this, too, but Papi would probably think it’s weird.)
You want to be a second grade dual language teacher when you grow up, you want to marry a blonde boy who speaks German, and you want to name your firstborn child Rosa Parks because you read a book about her once and were so impressed by how brave she was.  (Yes.  You’ve actually told me all of this.)
You love your Emmy so much, and you take your job as a big sister very seriously, to the point of stressing out when her carefree, careless ways get her in trouble.  (This will probably only get worse the older she gets.  But I know you’ll keep her in line!)
You are so special to us.  We see God’s work in your heart, trust that He is building godliness in you, and can’t wait to see what the fruit of His love for you will do.  
Happy birthday!

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