The day has finally arrived. For the next 89 years, Chloe will need two digits to describe her age. She has officially started her second decade. We started the celebration last night, with a trip into New York to see “Wicked” and have dinner at Junior’s (Chloe’s choice; she loves their black & white cookies). It was great fun.
I remember the day Chloe was born almost like it was yesterday. In fact, we were reminiscing and laughing about it at dinner. I vividly remember the extended labor, the hospital stay – having to share a room with another mom who believed that a newborn required visits by a couple of dozen people in the span of a few hours, nurses who discouraged me from breastfeeding in the middle of the night and instead promoted feeding Chloe sugar water – but most especially, how beautiful Chloe was from the get-go. She glowed, even as she screamed for the first time.
Ten years later, she’s even more beautiful. Both on the outside – the brown-green eyes; the thick, wavy hair; the smile. And most important, on the inside. She’s smart as a tack and creative. And passionate and driven. She has a good heart. And she’s usually nice to her sister.
She’s my baby. And despite the fact that she doesn’t want me to call her by a nickname anymore, that she won’t hold my hand in the theater anymore (apparently, holding hands while walking is still acceptable. Phew!), and that she constantly argues like a lawyer (hell, I know one when I see one), she’ll always be my first baby.
I love you, my ABC. OK – I know you hate the nickname, but I started using that with you when you were an infant. And now that you’re 10, this will be the last time. Promise.