Dear Olivia, (Livvy. Liv. Wibby. Wibby Wobble. Squibby.)
You got big, pretty girl. You got big and you went home. You're not even seven pounds but you're enormous!
I'm no less bewitched by you. You haven't worn off.
What a dramatic arrival! But you've really had your own little way about you from the very first day. You're brave. You've been poked and prodded more in 11 weeks than I have in nearly 26 years. It was so exciting when you started wearing clothes, even though you swam in the tiniest suits. You have the best face; so expressive and cute and peaceful. You throw your arms around and vogue like Madonna and from the day you were born it was all TALK TO THE HAND but I think you just like being cheeky.
Uncle Gezzy and I argue about Who Has The Best Niece. We're both wrong and both 100% right. We're very proud of you, beautiful girl.
Sometimes when I'm textin' you, I forget that it's your mummy texting back, so when I asked you to be my Valentine today and you texted back and said "yes", I took that as a Real Yes.
I love you a bazillion.
xoxo Aunty Al