A week ago, you turned five, surrounded by your bestfriends. I remember much earlier in my parenting days, I was so fixated on educating you, obsessively imagining how your brain was developing, bombarding you with rows and rows of sensory trays around our pancake-scen...
If I was a book,
I might be mistaken for an instruction manual,
for Barbie Dreamhouse.
Because the shade of pink on my cover
might be a little too in-your-face,
you’d be surprised to find me comfortably
snug in between two books double my size
in the Suspense genre.