Curled up on my lap with the constant smile that’s always reached your eyes, you once seemed so fragile – look at you now mashallah!
Atata’cim, at four years old you are a non-stop bundle of energy. Always with a project, always on the move.
At four years old you love diggers, and dumper trucks and mud.
You think you’re a builder and adore anything mechanical.
You believe paint is for smearing,the more colour on the paper, the more beautiful the art.
At four years old you pucker up your lips and smoosh them onto our cheeks. “I love you Mom” you say, the American twang always making me laugh.
You concentrate with your tongue sticking out and spend your days as clothes-free as possible.
Four years old has brought with it a love of Peter Rabbit and Spiderman, your favourite book “You and Me, Little Bear”, favourite song “Thinking Out Loud”.
At four, you’re logical with an acute sense of fairness far beyond your years.
At four you love meat, chocolate and stolen sips of coffee.
Sand, mud, pebbles..anything that can be scooped, dug and piled keeps you happy for hours.
You wake ready to bake, dance or “fix”, you fall asleep curled into my shoulder.
At four you giggle from your belly, smile from your heart and do grumpy with an intensity to rival even me.
You are a fantastic and thoughtful “abi” to babies, and a playmate to all animals.
At four you’re growing your hair and cannot fathom the reasoning of shoes.
You’re fearless, athletic and have the unique ability to both scale door-frames effortlessly and yet fall over your feet constantly. Your sturdy body is constantly grazed and bruised, but your confidence takes no knocks.
My darling little one you have filled our hearts with the most precious of memories, giving love unreservedly and being so directly, fantastically you. Your determined, stubborn, open, loving soul will you take you far, ATM, inshallah.
Happy Birthday little man, may Allah give us many more to share.