Rosemary is 5!

Rosemary was the beneficiary of many parties this year. 

She had a joint birthday party with her pal Simon, also born on May 25.

She had a school party (pictured here with her best buds Reece and Parker).

And on the night of Rosemary's actual birthday, both sets of grandparents were present.

Grandpa Keithley and Tess played "Happy Birthday" on our new piano, and everyone sang.

Portrait of a five-year-old:

Rosemary loves to work in the kitchen.  She is our carrot-peeler and egg-beater.  She mixes batters and bakes breads and cobblers, and is in charge of waffles on Saturdays.  She wants to be a chef.

Rosemary also loves to create art, and her artwork adorns the walls of our household.  She tends to paint the same themes over and over again.  For a while, the theme was thick vertical lines of green, yellow, and purple.  She also had a "family standing on a sidewalk" phase.  Currently, her theme is orange sunsets ("I really hate the color yellow in a sunset.")  She frequently asks for an envelope, and then mails her drawings to her schoolmates. 

Somewhat famously among our adult friends, Rosemary has made a habit of latching onto catch phrases ("Too bad!") ("Don't you dare.")  We're not sure where she gets these signature lines, but she delivers them with gusto.  Her latest:  "You're killing me."

Rosemary continues to keep us on our toes.  She is headstrong, tenacious, and quick to fight with her brother and defend herself.  The #1 thing she gets in trouble for is throwing objects at Silas, primarily books and toys, as a response to being teased.  Yet there is no one she loves more than Silas -- she follows him everywhere, covets his approval, and imitates him frequently.  (Both of the older kids are great with Tess; often they are fighting over who gets to play with Tess.)

Every night, sometimes at 11:00 p.m., sometimes at 3:00 a.m., Rosemary wakes up, bolts down the hall, and clambers into our bed.  We can count on one hand the number of nights in her life that Rosemary has spent entirely on her own.  I assume that in this next year, we'll finally buckle down and teach Rosemary the value of nighttime independence -- but we will miss her sweet, sleepy, cuddling presence each dawn.