Oh, Lucy, it's cliche but true, time really does fly. I was going through all our old pictures, laughing and crying at the same time. Remembering how you used to hold your head up, so proud, rolling over, Oliver's first, but definitely not last, lick of your face. Your first hair cut (you had so much hair!) I can't believe this tiny, tiny baby with jet black hair, has grown into you, a light-haired beauty, with hazel brown eyes, and wickedly infectious smile. One day I will tell you about how long we yearned and wished for you. Years past before you made your arrival, and that single moment has set our lives onto an entirely new, infinitely superior, utterly exhausting path. We are your parents, and I'm your mother, the single definition of me that I hold closest to my heart. However, you are Lucy, your very own person, as you proudly tell people, "I Lucy." You wake-up every day, with an enthusiasm that is tangible, and I just do my best to keep up with you. Your greatest joy is to play, and I hope you never tire of playing with me. You hold my face in your hands, and tell me, "I love you much, mom." You hear Scott's car in the driveway, and run to the door shouting, "Daddy! Daddy!" You take my hand and say, "c'mon." And what else can I do, but let you guide me into your adventures.

Sometimes I miss so much your quiet little self, sleeping soundly on my chest, nestling into me and later, your incoherent babbling that woke me up every morning. But it's hard to miss yesterday, when tomorrow beckons so brightly. I cherish you more than I could ever adequately express. Thank you for being my daughter. I love you, baby girl (stinky monster.)