Sydney, I remember your big birthday in St. Martin at Buccaneers', that lively little spot right on the beach where kids ran around and the sound of music drifted out onto the sand. You were still so young then, excited and wide-eyed, taking in everything at once. There was a small snowman decoration, and in the warm island sun it began to droop and sag as if it was trying its hardest to stay cheerful while the heat slowly took it apart.

You and Juniper kept running past it, stopping every time to check how much lower it had slumped. Sometimes it tilted a little more. Sometimes its tiny face slipped down its body. Each time you noticed a new change, you burst into laughter, pointing at it like it was telling you a joke only you understood.

The whole day was loud and bright and full of movement, but that silly melting snowman became our quiet, funny pause in the middle of all the excitement. And I loved watching the two of you share that little moment together on your sunny island birthday.