. . . the day to adorable day

Averie Lucia rocks.
She still does.
Nearly six years into her life, she is such an amazing little girl.

She has a new favorite color.  It's red.

She still loves to dance, and she dances well.  She is, in her heart and in her movements, a dancer.  Once in the pink, now in the blue, and looking ever ahead to the black, strapped, feminine leotard that will be her uniform next year.

She loves school.  The (very, very, very late) arrival of the "Math Box" has been the biggest event of the year for her.  Counting bears, rulers, a balance, geoboards, tangrams, linking cubes, shapes, a colorful menagerie of things to touch and move and measure and weigh and count.  It is fast becoming her favorite part of the day, and she often begs to use the parts well after the school day is done.

She loves trains, planes and automobiles.  She watches "Cars" - both I and II repeatedly on movie nights, and knows all the jokes by heart.  She can identify a Ferrari, a Chinook and a 'Steamie' with ease and enthusiasm.  She has a bigger hot wheels collection than her Dadoo ever did, and miles upon miles of track for her engines.

She wears dresses.  And skirts.  And gowns.  She will always do as she's asked if encouraged to wear leggings or jeans, but her favorite attire is feminine and ruffled and twirly and fun.  She loves having her toes painted.

She loves her little sister.  She is a wonderful, wonderful big sister.  She is a helper, a nurturer, a teacher, never far from her 'baby', never late with her advice or help or words of experiential wisdom ("No, Isla, that will burn you.  Ee-ee* touched a light bulb once and it burned her").  She reads to this little shadow of hers, telling her with great detail all the ins and outs of the stories.  She rests with her, helps comfort the two-year-old who is fretful with the onset of sleepiness.  She races to remove a 'choking hazard'.  She hugs her and whispers, "I love you, Isla" at prayers.  "Goodnight, sweetheart!" she shouts as her sister races out the door.

She is kind, funny, intelligent, loving, the sweetest five-year-old-baby-adorable you've ever seen.

*"Ee-ee" is the name the baby sister gave her big sister when she couldn't pronounce "sister" or "sissy". Averie, when speaking of herself to her sister, refers to herself as "Ee-ee", too.