Jerimiah was a bullfrog ... he was a good friend of mine.

And so is this chick.

I can not believe this tiny little baby who was so bald and calm and snuggly is about to be four years old. We are about to have a four year old. One with long real kid legs, longish semi-curly hair, one who likes to sing Kings of Leon and Dixie Chicks and Taylor Swift at the very top of her lungs, loves to be the mama, one who always wants to play with her sister, one who would eat biscuits at every meal if I'd let her, one who would wear tights everyday if I'd let her (I usually do), one who is so smart she scares us sometimes, one with a memory like an elephant, one who loves to read and read and read, one who moves me to tears with her prayers, one who gets her feelings hurt like her mama, one who loves her daddy so much I get jealous, one who likes pink, one who can sing whole songs in Spanish, one who loves to get her finger nails painted, one who loves ketchup on her eggs, one who will still snuggle with me when she's tired, one who can do a great Grover impression, one who loves boots, one who loves to dance, one who wants to be a mommy or Michael Jackson when she gets big, one who can drive me up the wall like no one ever has ever in my life, one that can say things that melt me in an instant.

She is more to me than I can ever ever put into words. She's the realest, purest most beautiful thing I know. She's Boogy.