Jess at 5

 

As many of you know, I am pulling the #StuffMyGirlSays out of Facebook (not easy) and working on some kind of book to share them. One idea I keep coming back to is organizing by age. When I sort them that way, little trends and phases pop up, and I can sense who she was and who she was becoming.

When I think about my girl at five, I hear a voice that was practical and magical at the same time. So much of future Jess was already right there, and I was lucky to witness it as her mom.

She knew herself, and she said it out loud. “It’s really lucky that I get to be me. I wouldn’t like being you.” I remember laughing at the bluntness and then realizing it was not unkind at all. It was simple and sunny. She liked being Jessie, and she assumed everyone else should like being themselves, too. Even at five, she showed me that loving your own life can be a kind of gratitude.

In the middle of my fussing about dishes, she would hand me this little reset. “Don’t worry, Mom, EVERYONE who has a kid has a messy house.” I still hear that as the friendliest kind of truth. It let me choose being with her over chasing spotless. Nothing dramatic. Just permission to sit down with her and laugh while the dishes waited their turn.

She was generous in her reading of others. Once, after a tube slide collision: “That boy wasn’t trying to hurt me. He just wants me to be a superhero. Maybe he can teach me!” She could have been angry. Instead, she chose a kind version of events and kept playing. That way of giving people the benefit of the doubt showed up again and again.

Wonder was everyday for her. We could be on an ordinary walk, and she would light up. “I found a rock shaped like a shoe. That’s very rare. Maybe rarer than a blue moon. I’m the luckiest girl. I’ll call it a blue rock.” She noticed, she named, and suddenly the whole day felt lucky because she decided it was. 

Even a slip-up carried her extra sparkle. When I notice that she spelled her name JessIie (capital I then lowercase i), she immediately replies, “That’s not an ‘I’ -- that (pointing to the small ‘i’) means extra more Jessie!” I can still see the page. She turned a mistake into meaning without missing a beat. Extra more Jessie became a family phrase, and it fit her perfectly.

At bedtime, she could stall with purpose. “Please, one more picture, mommy. It is the drawing of my life, I was meant to draw it now!” Yes, she wanted to stay up. She also felt that little buzz to make what was inside her real before sleep. Crayons, quiet, and a small crease of focus. Bedtime could wait one more minute.

AND she always circled back to the heart of it all. “The most importantest thing is love, right mom?!” Yes. Always. That line anchors the others. Self-acceptance, kindness at home, turning slips into opportunities for celebration, and choosing a generous perspective about other people. Love sits at the top, and everything else finds its place.

When I read these together, I see Five so clearly. Sure of herself. Quick to spot tiny magic. Easy and kind at home. Ready to make something. Generous with people. And always back to love. This is why I am collecting. It brings me right back to her. Extra more Jessie. Extra more love.