For you, tomorrow can't come soon enough

Dear Emily,
Tomorrow you will be four years old. You are my baby and you will be four. FOOOOOUUUUURRRR. It is mind boggling. You are so tall now and made of 75% wonderfulness. Three was by far harder than us than "the terrible twos," but four is looking good. Very good. It is as if someone flipped a switch a few weeks ago and my opinionated, tantrum-throwing, boundary-pushing, spoiled princess suddenly became an opinionated, semi-logical, articulate, considerate, polite, and only slightly stubborn princess.
Some of this, I am sure, is due to your increased capacity to mimic. You are fortunate to be surrounded by considerate and polite people. A lot of your conversations sound rehearsed, but I know your little mind is busily assembling scenarios and appropriate phrases. Sometimes your concern for how my day went or whether somebody slept well is overwhelming in cuteness. It is beautiful to see.
You have also put together a pretty complex database of morals. You recognize people who are not acting "beautiful on the inside" and declare it is because "they are focusing on the wrong things." It is amazing. Of course, to internalize all this new information regarding behavior requires you to ask a lot of question. A lot. All the time. It is not at all wearying. In part, I think you want confirmation that your interpretation of a situation is correct. Who doesn't want a little affirmation every now and then? the other part is just that you have a good grasp on some simpler concepts and are ready to have more complicated issues explained to you. You are a curious girl. Occasionally, I have heard the word "why" come out of your mouth at a frequency that has prompted me to ask why you ask so many questions. You answer simply that you are " a little gir-ul and that is your jo-ob." Fair enough.
The biggest hurdle for me though, is food. After months of resorting to pb&j, cereal, toast, cheese, and fruit you have decided you need to try EVERYTHING. Green enchiladas. Salsa. Special K. Cream cheese. a stick of butter. I could not be happier. Maybe next week we can try for sushi. Further, you are cooking. COOKING! I got you your own cookbook with pictorial steps and you have made dinner for Donna and I twice now. Your caesar salad was amazing. Your cheesy bread was lacking. The bonding has been priceless.
Love, Mommy