Happy Happy Happy

She is a hugger and a kisser and a let me just stroke your arm for a million minutes kind of girl. She told me sternly to lie down on the kitchen sofa yesterday so she could brush my hair "just like they do at those places" and I died of happiness for the five minutes it lasted. She needs to touch and be touched, she needs to be in the middle, always, she needs to kiss and hold and feel and talk and sing. She's five years old today and a major drama queen with a tendency to cry in front of the mirror ('cause the bigger the audience the better). But mostly she's all about love. Happy birthday, mitt hjärta.