Bunny is six. My oldest grandchild, born one and a half minutes ago (it seems to me), born so petite that she needed preemie clothes, is now a tooth-losing, word-spelling, bike riding, pony-loving, story-writing little lady of six. And what a lady she's becoming. A lover of tiaras, tutus, flowers, glitter, princesses, tea parties, and all things purple and pink.
More importantly, she's learning to mix honesty with kindness. A spontaneous gift-opening-response of "oh, this isn't the doll I wanted" is followed by a swift "but thank you, GaGa - I like her hair!"
Most importantly, Bunny is learning to follow Jesus. Seeing cartoon bullies in a movie recently, she assessed the situation by pronouncing gravely: "they don't know God."
I will admit, at this milestone in Bunny's life, to experiencing more than a trace of nostalgia. She has a charming curly-haired brother and a sister whose smile lights up a room, and about each one I am utterly and hopelessly ... well, gaga. But Bunny was the one who turned me into a grandma, and then gave me "my name" when "Grammy" proved too much for a tiny tot to say.
I feel winds tickling the edges of our horizons. School will be at home, at least for now, and Bunny's social life is still mostly family and church and ballet class and swim lessons....
But with that little puff of breath aimed at six birthday candles, I could swear the back of my neck felt, for just the briefest moment, a tiny prickle of change.
Bunny is six.
"When we learn to see life through the eyes of a child, that is when we become truly wise." (Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta)
(painting of La Fillette aux canard by Alfred Stevens, 1881)