This year I'm starting something new for your birthday. Instead of another letter, your mother, now a bonafide member of wwwdotlistmakersanonymous, has assembled this list below, which is all about you. Various observations made since last year's exercise, with length determined by your age. Which means that in 2009 your inaugural birthday list is all of 8 things long. In celebration of eight amazing years.

1. We love absolutely anything by Roald Dahl. Last summer you played an Oompa-loompa in one of your after-school theater mash-ups, so you had a vague to middling idea of who he was. Then some months later you were introduced to his books through The BFG by your second grade teacher, Mrs. Matteson. You made me buy all of his books, which is how I discovered him, deprived creature that I am. We read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory together, staying up late one night to watch the Gene Wilder movie. And you just couldn't sit still. Towards the end, you were bouncing on the back of the sofa, half-standing, absolutely beside yourself, when the elevator crashed through the roof of the factory and you burst out, "Mommy, LOOK! SKY HOOKS! They're invisible!!" 

2. Roald Dahl may be responsible for all the astonishing characters populating your writing recently. You've introduced me to Snozzalumps, which can be eaten by Oogams. To be precise, Oogams need 5 Snozzalumps daily, or they don't get any bigger. Snozzalumps come in different colors and some of them are poisonous. And there's also a Pollydopius involved somehow, but I haven't figured out its place in the food chain yet. 

3. Any list about kids must involve food, and this one is no different. At age 7, you discovered cottage cheese. Cottage cheese. Dude, what is that about? But we're not complaining. Not about this present compulsion for curds, or the force driving your need to have 2009 go down in in history as the year of Things Which Cannot Touch When They Are On Your Plate. 

4. There was one remarkable week when you lost your homework folder, your winter coat and your EXPENSIVE raincoat, all over 3 consecutive days. But it turns out you were coming down with something, so maybe I shouldn't have yelled at you to go find your little self a job so you could pay for all of the stuff you lose. 

5. You like clothes but you're not fussy -- you don't pay attention to mismatched socks, and you've been wearing the same set of pants to school for just about 2 years now. And they're all gently rising as you seriously lengthen. The knees are several shades lighter than the rest of the garment, and permanently discolored, but you love them and it's all on account of the elastic in their waistbands. No zippers or thumb-wrenching snaps, all of which make them just perfect for that frenetic, absolute point-of-no-return sprint to the bathroom, a charming routine that just drives me to distraction. You would rather sit for a few seconds, squeeze everything tightly and just wait out that urge to pee, hurling yourself right back into play when you think it's safe. Good luck with that. 

6. You have two best friends, both older and in different classes, I think because your second grade cohorts sometimes bewilder you (I have another word to describe just what a few of them do to me at times, but Salon pays some of your bills so we won't go there). And you've finally figured out that a boyfriend isn't a friend who is a boy, like I've been trying to tell you, but all of something else. It's mostly still cloaked in mystery, which you seem to be ok with. I know I am. We'll sort it out when the subject hits the playground. 

7. You are so polite. Scrupulously, prissily, ridiculously well-mannered. Once I was yelling at you to GET TO THE TABLE NOW AND EAT YOUR DINNER, and you folded your arms and said, "Mommy, you have to say please." And, not being one to miss a cue, of course I shouted, HANNAH, PLEASE GET TO THE TABLE AND EAT YOUR DINNER RIGHT THIS BLESS-ED SECOND. I like that that you think 'stupid' is a horrifying word. You'd rather spell it than say it aloud, and you're so serious and earnest about this, it's a little comical and heartbreaking all at the same time. I have to agree, nothing good ever comes of anyone using that word, so let's toss it out. 

8. We have to get past this whole death and dying nonsense because you are making me nuts. And you're making you nuts, crying yourself to sleep at times, demanding to know at just what age you'd finally be ok with the whole business of dying. The truth? Well. For now, all you really need to know is that I will never die, cross my heart AND.

And.

A list of 8 things can never be long enough to adequately describe the little person you have grown into, but it will have to do for now. You make us so proud. And we're so incredulous that you are who you are, in spite of us. But you know I'm being silly, since we have to be getting some things right. After all, here you are.

Happy Birthday, Bananahead.

Love,
Mommy

(Images from 30 Birds, a Hannah/Mom collaboration)