Five years ago today– actually, five years ago this morning before 7 am, we added our third baby girl to the family.
Shiloh Frances is now “a whole hand” old.
There’s something about a kid who turns five. Somehow, it just seems so much older than four. Maybe it’s because she’s that much closer to going to Kindergarten. Or maybe it’s because she can now say (nearly) all of her words correctly without a cute little lisp or mispronunciation. Or maybe it’s because she does more on her own than she does with my help.
Regardless, it just seems like she’s growing up too quickly.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t carry with me some “third child guilt.” Shiloh is the third girl in a row. Immediately following her is our baby boy, Leo, who gets a lot of attention because, well, he’s a boy. He’s my boy.
Shiloh gets all the hand-me-downs. It’s rare if something she wears is new or purchased specially for her. She’s too little to be big and too big to be little. She desperately wants to be on the level of her older sisters, but at the same time, she still wants to be my baby.
Caught in between, she is about to be the true middle of the family– the third born of five children.
I think about if she and our newest, youngest baby girl will be able to closely bond despite their five year age gap. I hope and pray that Shiloh doesn’t feel replaced or upstaged by the baby or overshadowed and eclipsed by the older two.
I have these worries, but then I take one look at that feisty little package, and I remember who I am talking about.
This kid is so unique…so spunky…so herself. She will make her own way. She will be just fine, no matter what.
A whole hand old today.
And her whole hand still fits in my whole hand — which means she’s still the baby girl for a little while longer.
