It has been a long time since I last wrote an entry for you. It seems we are all so busy; you as much as anyone else. I think, though, that it is all the activities you get up to that have made you more Emily than ever before. This school year you've tried cheerleading, chorus, and flute lessons. You figured out how to climb a tree, and finally conquered the art of riding a bike. We have had to work to reign you in - to keep you from bouncing to something new before you've seen the last thing through. Problematic, sometimes, but also indicative of the possibility you see in every opportunity.
And you read. Oh, how you read! Just this past Wednesday Ben commented on your literary growth. When we moved to Florida almost three years ago you groaned whenever we tried to make a game of reading billboards because it was hard for you read them. Now, you read o a sixth grade level. In fact, I've sneaked some of your books out from under your arm once you fell asleep at night and devoured them.
On Thursday I attended an award ceremony at your school where I watched you receive three awards - Principal's Honor Roll, Progress, and Citizenship. Not only do you care about your performance in school, but you care for the people around you. What an amazing package.
I told a friend you had asked me why we used money to buy things and no longer traded stuff. Her husband rushed over to us just to proclaim you a genius. I couldn't agree more. It isn't just that you're smart; it is your desire to grow smarter, to wrap your head around ideas and squeeze the possibilities out of them. It is the way you often express yourself so articulately we have to remind ourselves that you are not 10 or 12 or 15 years old. You are eight. A wonderful, beautiful, delicious eight-year-old. But to us, your parents, you score a perfect 10.