This is Bridget.

The phone booth she used didn’t have pants in stock.

She gave us hints of her personality well before she was born. When we attempted to find out the sex of the baby, she refused to show the goods during not one, but two ultrasounds. I had initially hoped for a VBAC, but little miss stubbornly remained sideways in my belly, butt down, waiting for someone to bring her a Mai Tai. She was born four years ago while "Like a Prayer" played on the OR speakers- I like to think that she waited until the lame Marc Anthony song was done before making her appearance. It took her a second or two to cry, which felt like an eternity. But from that moment she has never stopped making noise. I nicknamed her "Budgie" on the way home from the hospital because she mewed and chirped the whole time, like a tiny bird.The name has stuck, and she even talks in her sleep, mostly making requests for food. People remark on how well she speaks for a such a little kid- she will happily hold her own in any conversation with kids or grown-ups alike. We will be in line at Starbucks and she will turn to the person behind us and start: "I'm Bridget. I'm 3 and a half, this is my baby sister Nora. I like your shirt". Most adults I know don't socialize half as well as Bridget does.

We don’t do mornings.

Bridget and I have something special. They say when you are truly fluent in a language you no longer translate in your head from your mother tongue- you think in the new language too. I am fluent in Bridget- I know why she's mad, I know why her brain leaped nine steps ahead to an illogical conclusion, I know why she cries so hard when she's tired. I know that she feels all of the feelings, all of the time, and they overwhelm her. And that a nap and/or a yogurt stick fix 98% of her problems. Bridget looks like me when I was little- big brown eyes and golden ringlets. But she actually tans, one of the few attributes she seems to have gotten from her father. She is fearless, smart, imaginative and in constant motion. She will talk your ear off and tell you that Saturn's rings are made from ice, rock and other debris. She loves Minnie Mouse, Spider-Man and strawberry ice cream with gummy bears. She has the vocabulary of a college student, and the confidence of a prizefighter.

Mama and Bridget, ~6 months old.

She hates the word "no" and being ignored. She likes to take snugly naps with me and getting her nails done. She loathes (like her mama) unnecessary exertion. She often sings herself to sleep with either Do-Re-Mi or Frozen songs. She loves her sisters fiercely and protectively, wanting to do everything Maeve does while making Nora laugh hysterically. She has more imagination bundled into her little body than all the animators, scientists and architects in the world combined. She is a natural actress with an incredibly expressive face and impeccable comic timing, Much like with her sisters, I love Bridget in ways I never thought possible. It's like I've grown new nerves and cells just to accommodate the extra love. She makes my mornings brighter, my evenings sweeter, my days an adventure. Whether she is playing with her beloved stuff monkey Ooh-ahh, pretending to be a superhero, or digging for worms in our yard, I hope she knows how much I love her, and that she's made the last 4 years of my life more fun than I ever could have hoped.

Happy Birthday Bridget- you are my superhero.