It’s the night before Livia’s sixth birthday and I just botched an entire batch of M&M cookies for her school treat tomorrow. But before I get too frustrated by the botched batch—say that five times fast!—I have to remember that things could be worse. It could’ve been a botched cake, and that would’ve been bad news.

As it is, a heart-shaped cake awaits icing on the counter. Bags of decorations and unwrapped gifts rest on the living room couch. Our little white Coton snoozes in his kennel after a satisfying dinner of dog food. And my handsome web developer web-develops upstairs; surely he won’t mind eating the rest of the cookie dough for me.

Tucked in her bed, with a stuffed pink octopus nestled in her arms, lies my little girl on her last night of being five years old. Awake she is vibrant, chatty, imaginative and strong. Asleep she is only a breath away from that baby who slept peacefully with her arms behind her head, legs splayed like a little frog.

Praise God for this child who calls me Mama. Each day of Livia Raine is a blessing to me.