You turned 59 months old two days ago.
The loud, angry, stomping away to your room was not meant as an apology, was it?
Fortunately, distractions (when they are big enough) still work and the arrival of your friends and the magician turned things around for a while.
We kicked it off by getting the flu. I thought you might be spared as I sent you to school and kept Lucy (who was already sick) home. Fate conspired against us though as the following day brought traffic gridlock on both the roads and with the trains and I had to keep you both home. By late afternoon, you were down too.
You are into fireworks, my love, whether you make them explode yourself or cause them to go off in the people around you.