How did you get to be 5?!

For Nora's birthday last year, we were in Florida and I didn't do a birthday post. I remember thinking, though, that 4 was the year she became a little girl. A year later, I have a correction: 5 is the year she grew into a little girl.

For starters, when did you stop being small? You've always been on the bottom half of the height curve, but somewhere in there you grew. You're now 42.5 inches tall, which is only a few inches shorter than Owen was at this age -- and he's both big and a boy. I only recently realized this, when I bought some size 5 clothes thinking you'd grow into them and the shirts were already too short.

The biggest change of the past year is that you started all-day 4-year-old kindergarten. That first morning went well...until it was time to actually go inside the school. You cried and clung to my side, and the teacher had to pull you through the door, as you sobbed and reached out to me. If I hadn't been through this once before, I'm pretty sure I would have grabbed you back and hugged you tight -- and perhaps run away from there with you, never to return -- but I knew your teacher was kind and loving, and that you'd be OK. And guess what? You were. After that initial rough morning, you never cried again, and by the end of the first week, you told us that you loved school.

And you've taken to school really well. (Be forewarned: here's the part where I brag.) You are so damn smart. You quickly learned to count to 30, and then became one of the first kids in your class who could count to 100. You draw so well that when I pick up drawings from around the house, I sometimes mistake your work for Owen's. You're learning all of the "sight words" from class and really want to know more. You've started bringing home early reader books, and you whiz through them. I love that sometimes when we read books together, you are curious about the words you don't know and want me to tell you what they are so you can then read them yourself.

So far, you show all the indications that you'll be my reading girl. You've always been the one who will settle in on the couch with a stack of books and quietly look at them yourself. After our bedtime reading, I often overhear you "re-reading" the book, coming up with the words by mixing memory with what you see in the pictures.

You are so observant and always thinking. And you love playing pretend. You come up with scenarios to act out, and assign roles to your big brother or any other willing bystander. The other night, we were a family of lions whose house was under the dining room table. We took a chair bus to Grandma and Grandpa's house, but then had to quickly leave, since a tornado was on the way. I can tell that your mind still often works faster than your mouth can succinctly express, but we know better than to interrupt or try to help, lest we be treated to your trademark "the glare" or perhaps off-shoot, "the stomp."

One of your favorite pretend games is playing The Chipmunks. Jon usually is Simon (because he has glasses, of course), Owen is Alvin and I'm either Eleanor or Britney, depending on who you've chosen to be -- because you like for me and you to be sisters. Britney also is your go-to name for new toys. There's a stuffed cat named Britney, a mermaid doll named Britney and the new pillow pet you got for your birthday also became Britney.

Your smile lights up everything around you. Your eyes crinkle up and your mouth widens into a huge grin. And your laugh is contagious. You scowl with equal enthusiasm, and you continue to be able to swing between those two emotions in the blink of an eye. You're a shy girl, in many ways, and really don't like anyone talking about you (you'd hate this blog). If it's just the family, you'll let us know your displeasure, but if it's, say, the woman at the hair salon going on and on about your red hair, you just get really quiet. But I know you're stewing in there.

I'm definitely noticing some stereotypical girl traits coming out. You're very in tune with the emotions around you. And you notice things, whether it's a scraped elbow or that mommy has a new bag or pair of shoes (which makes it difficult for me to shrug off such purchases, by the way). You're often able to locate the exact toy you're looking for -- digging deep into a toy bin and emerging with your target, and you're a reliable source of information when it comes to remembering where you took off your shoes the night before, or whether you have homework.

I also recently got a taste for the "drama" that no doubt lies ahead. Assigned to chaperone a group that included you and your two best friends, I expected a carefree day. Instead, it was a stew of ever-changing emotions, mostly surrounding hurt feelings or jealousy over who was whose hand-holding partner. I was seriously exhausted by the end of that day.

I love that you're a mix of girly girl and tomboy. So while you love skirts and princesses and once declared that you needed to change your shirt because it didn't have enough pink on it, you also love Spiderman and Buzz Lightyear and toy cars. You have an adventurous spirit, and you're open to new experiences in a way your more cautious older brother often wasn't.

This next year, one of our big challenges will be The Thumb. I have a feeling we will now be paying penance for all of those sleep-filled nights that accompanied a baby whose No. 1 soother was attached to her arm. It pains me a bit to have to force you to give up this part of your babyhood -- partly because it also means admitting you're no longer my baby -- but it is time. And it will not be easy. Somewhere, my parents are laughing at all of this.

The fact is that you've grown up a lot in the past year. So much of what we used to have to do for you -- from brushing your teeth to washing your hair to buckling you into your car seat -- you now do for yourself. (And we'd better not forget it. See "the glare" and "the stomp" above.)

While that independence is exciting in many ways, it is hard, too, because it is clear that you're growing up so fast. The upside is that it's thrilling to watch you become the person you're going to be. I love the times we are able to hang out, just the two of us. We chat and laugh and get to be goofballs together. But of course I'm also nostalgic for the pudgy, spiky-haired baby you once were. It makes me happy that you still insist on cuddling into my arm when we read a bedtime story, even as you drop my hand as soon as we've crossed a street.

Nora, you have an amazing spirit, and I fall more and more in love with you every day.

Happy birthday, little girl.