An Apology

To my dearest third daughter, a doomed middle child, a girl forever caught between the older girls and little kids, my darling Bophie. I do love you very much, you are a blessing to me and to this family. Please forgive a mom who was very busy with Christmas preparations, gifts to buy, cookies to bake, trees to trim. With six kids this year I had to use a spreadsheet to keep the gifts straight. I was up many, many nights very late Internet shopping and then wrapping. It was hard enough to get Christmas cards out the door to a few friends. The fact that your name was somehow inadvertently left off the card while all your siblings names were there is no indication of your place in this family. It is an indication of how scatterbrained and overwhelmed your poor mother was this Christmas.
I hope this has been made up for by the fact that the garage pantry is still well stocked with Christmas cookies, that our house is still standing after all the decorating, that you got such wonderful presents that were wrapped so beautifully on Christmas morning. That you know I love you because I scooped you up at least three times each day to tell you how much I love you. That you are assured I love you because I show you with clean laundry, good food, tucking you into bed, reading you books, and endlessly providing you with art supplies.
To my credit, preparing Christmas cards on the Internet is not always easy. There were four different cards I was choosing between. I typed in our names over and over again. Then somehow the card I was working on disappeared and I had to begin all over again. It was late, I was tired, I had to get to other Christmas preparations. Please keep this in mind when you are in therapy, lamenting your middle child status. Remember you got that doll you wanted Christmas morning. You know the one that says, "I have to go potty," in four different languages. I fought hard to get you that doll. Your father said we had too many dolls. I insisted, knowing how much you wanted it, even if it was ridiculously expensive.

So, once more, I love you dearest Bophie. I love you very, very much.