Spit Fire

Dear Mayzie,

You are a spit fire.  I have known this, but the gymnastics coach called you this last week.  She is dead on.

You are fearless.  When you are happy everyone knows it, when you are mad everyone knows it and when you don't want to go to bed...everyone knows it.  You go go go until you crash. You swim like a fish.  You jump off the diving board. You aren't afraid of anything, including getting hurt.  You ride your bike like a demon with fire coming out the back of it...zipping past Theo, weaving in and out of drive ways, up and down hills, making sharp turns.  You bounce and flip like crazy at gymnastics.  You pitch a fit like I have never hear or seen in my life.  When you run you go as fast as you can.  You get this crazy look on your face that is somewhere between a smile and the look of a devil child when you go to hug Liza, Georgia and Tillie.  I am not sure if you are going to hug them or try squeezing them to death.   You are a  DADDY'S girl. And, I am pretty sure you only eat candy, despite my best efforts.

As frustrating as this is sometimes, I wouldn't trade it in.  I think this is going to serve you well in the future.

Sometimes you are pretty sweet too, SOMETIMES!