Abby got her hair cut yesterday.  Not trimmed, but cut.  Her hair has always been long but she came down stairs and asked me, “Daddy, mommy says I have to ask you if I can get my hair cut short.  Can I please?”  And in true non-committal fashion I said, “Let me go upstairs and talk to your mother.”  I went upstairs and conceded.  It is something that I knew would happen, she’s been asking for a while for shorter hair and it was well and good for her to start to assert some of her growing up decision making skills.  So her hair is shorter now, about shoulder length.  I’ve not got a picture yet, but I’ll be taking one soon and I’ll get it up on the interwebs shortly.

As a dad this is kinda cool, kinda scary, and kinda important.   Its cool because it is an opportunity to see my daughter grow up and mature over time.  Her desire to maintain a physical appearance that she’s pleased with is interesting.  She’s not one of those girls who has no will and is apathetic, she’s very opinionated, and her hair and clothes are part of that.  It is scary because she’s growing up.  My baby girls aren’t babies any more.  I have a very mature five and a half year old and a toddler who is showing that she’s wanting to be an independent five year old, too.  Its important that Abby cut her hair because I want her to start understanding about decisions and their short term, medium term and long term impact.  We joked that we couldn’t glue the hair back onto her so she had to make the choice understanding that.

She loves her new hair and has told everyone to look at it that she has seen (vanity? yup. We’re working on taming that, too).  She’s proud of her new look.  Frankly, I’m proud of my little girl.  She’s growing up fast, but I’m glad to see where she’s growing.  Its a blessing to be her dad.

Abby is five today.  Five years ago we were in the hospital and Jessica was in intense labor (at the time of this writing, according to my computer she’ll be five in a few more hours).  I can’t believe how much has changed in our lives since Abby was born, but much of that change is in direct relation to our having had Abigail.  I remember doing a lot of crying when Abby was born.  They were tears of joy and I’m sure they mixed with snot as I whimpered, wept and rejoiced over the new life I was seeing in front of me instead of her wiggling in Jessica’s stomach.

Abby can walk, talk, chew gum, read, imagine and laugh.  My mother has often told me that my smile is something she remembers most about me growing up and I can certainly say that Abby’s smile is what lingers in my memories as well.   Abby’s laughter and calling me silly, or asking me to tickle her, is something that I will cherish and recall when I hand her off some day to a husband who will hopefully find her to be one tenth as beautiful as I think she is.

Abby is smarter than I think any other children her age are.  I’m probably rather biased.  I’m rather biased about my daughters and wife, but I think that’s acceptable. [editors note: I’m crying now so I’ll stop.  What a pansy guy I am ;)]

Happy Birthday, Abigail Ruth!  Your mother and I love you very, very much!  I hope five is more wonderful than four.