Always my baby

My older daughter turned 4 last week.  Now, 4 isn't exactly grown up yet, but it's nevertheless pretty far from her beginnings as a tiny, 4lb 12oz bundle of joy.  She is smart and funny.  She has strong opinions of her own and can be fiercely independent.  She is loving and gentle, but also mischievous and not lacking in a certain amount of naughtiness either.  I've spent a bit of time over the past week thinking back on her babyhood and remembering the sweet little baby who used to snuggle into my chest and sleep there oh so peacefully. Nowadays it seems she never stops moving, talking, singing. But yesterday, the fever that she's suffered with since the weekend gave me a little gift.  She had hurt herself while playing and got quite upset, to she came to join me in the La-z-Boy rocking chair for comfort.  We snuggled under a quilt, and I rocked and soothed her.  She curled into a ball and fell asleep, snoring gently.  And I held my big girl, who is still my baby, and I loved the feel of her snuggled in my arms.  She is still a bundle of joy at four years old.