Dear Maggie,

Someday you'll grow up and you may not remember much about being six. I'll be old and there's a possibility that I will have lost the rest of what is left of my mind by then. When you ask me about this time in your life I won't know what to say, so I think I should jot down a few things now, while I still I have my wits about me.

You were very excited on your birthday this year. You woke up and came bursting out of your bedroom door, skipping and yelling, "I'm six! I'm six!" It was such a happy show of complete joy that I almost started crying. I don't get to see that kind of unbridled enthusiasm anymore with your three older siblings. Two of them are teenagers and the other is twelve and something happens around that time. They believe overt displays of happiness and glee are a bit gross.  Dramatic exits and entrances are much more their style, and if they really want to make a statement they're prone to sit in a room and stew and seethe in silence hoping  that I finally beg and plead of them, "What is the matter? Please tell me what is wrong! I must know!" They sigh and say, "oh nothing" and then they get up and slowly walk into another room, but not before turning around to see if I am following behind to ask them just one more time what's wrong. (Maggie, I hardly ever follow anymore. )

Someday you too will stew and refuse to tell me what's wrong, but right now you are at a point in your life where you have no inhibitions. Whatever is on your mind, whatever emotion you are feeling, it just spills out of you. If someone has a blemish on their face, you are the first one to point it out ( you're sisters and brother don't find this as amusing as I do) . When you asked a few months ago how I fed you when you were a baby and I told you I fed you breast milk, you gagged. You found the thought of it so revolting that you ran in your room and sobbed for a full five minutes. When you finally came out you told me you were mad at me and said to never talk about that again. Then you got over it and went back to talking about unicorns and pink dolphins and the giant lollipop I promised you earlier in the day. You move on from upsetting things at a brisk pace. There is no mulling over and discussing and obsessing and that's good because someday you'll spend entire weeks mulling over things as ridiculous as whether or not someone you knew saw you and tried to pretend they didn't see you ( even though you were doing the same thing to them). Enjoy your carefree days while you can. They are fleeting.

You came home from school last week and told me you wanted to invite everyone in your class to your birthday party, except for that one girl who doesn't want to be your friend. You weren't mean about it though. You know she doesn't like you and so you realized she wouldn't want to be at your party anyway. It hasn't entered your mind yet to try and make her like you. People either like you or they don't and it's of no consequence to you. Your feelings aren't hurt by this. Embrace this for a little while Maggie, because unless you are like your dad, you will come to a point in your life when you will try desperately to get someones approval. Sadly the person who you are trying to get it from will probably be a total ass not worthy of your time, but I won't bother telling you that because you would only raise your eyes and tell me I don't get it, I don't understand. Of course the good news is that as you approach mid-life you'll go back to not caring who likes you and you will hardly ever go out of you way looking for approval.

You tell me ten times a day that you never want to move out of this house. When Jane or Kate or Anthony mention things about going away to college someday, or getting married eventually and moving into their own home, you say no, no one can ever leave here, and then you cry and sob until we all say, okay, okay, no one is ever moving out. It's incomprehensible to you that we won't always be together forever in our tiny little house. The logical part of my brain, the part I try to ignore, knows that someday you will not feel this way, that you'll want to leave here and you'll want to start making memories that have nothing to do with all of us.

Life moves forward regardless of how much I keep telling it not to. Next year, you will be different from this year, and every year that passes after that will put your six year old self at such a distance that all you'll really have is feelings of this age. I know this because that's what has happened to me. I have a picture of me and Nana DeVito hanging above my desk. I bet I'm six years old in it. My hand is on Nana's shoulder, I'm standing behind her and she's sitting down opening a present. I have no memory of that day, only a feeling. I was excited and happy. If every memory of this time in your life vanishes from your mind I hope you at least can remember the feeling of it, the feeling of being adored and cherished.

One last thing. If you're reading this as an adult, you by now have encountered someone who felt it necessary to tell you that you, Maggie Hacic, are not the center of the universe. If that person was me, please remind me that I spoiled you more than I should have and made a much bigger deal out of every one of your accomplishments than was appropriate and that it was I who created the monster who now thinks she is the center of the universe. And if it wasn't me who told you that,  tell the person to kiss your ass and then send them my way.

We love you, Maggie!