A heartfelt birthday-and-Easter poem book celebrating five wonderful years of growing up, set in golden Australian autumn

A simple, story-appropriate everyday outfit — comfortable clothes that adapt to the scene the story calls for.

Story Default

Dear {child_name},
This book is for you.
Not because you asked for it,
but because you deserve it.
Five years ago, you arrived —
and the whole world turned golden.

Dear {child_name},
Before you were born,
we didn't know what was missing.
Then you arrived —
and suddenly the world
made perfect sense.

The seeds floated up
like tiny stars.
What did you wish for?
Only the dandelion knows.
But I think — I think —
it was something good.

What will five bring?
New friends, maybe.
New words. New songs.
More puddles to jump in.
More trees to climb.
More of everything
that makes you, you.

Five years of Easter mornings.
Five years of autumn rain
and autumn sun
and autumn mud on your shoes.
Five years of you growing
taller and braver
and kinder
and funnier
and more wonderfully you.

Five years of bedtime stories.
Five years of morning cuddles.
Five years of sticky fingers
and chocolate smiles
and the sound of your laugh
filling up every room.

So here is to you, {child_name}.
Here is to the next five,
and the five after that,
and all the autumns
still to come.

Happy birthday.
Happy Easter.
You are so, so loved.

So here is to you, {child_name}.
To every autumn that shaped you.
To every Easter that surprised you.
To every single day
of being wonderfully,
perfectly,
you.

We love you. Always.

The day you came,
a kookaburra laughed outside the window.
The golden wattle leaned in to look.
Even the clouds made room
so the sun could see you too.

The day you came,
the autumn wind hushed.
The gum trees stood still.
Even the magpies stopped singing —
just long enough to listen
to your very first sound.

At one, you held your first Easter egg.
You didn't know what it was —
but you knew it was beautiful.
You held it the way you held
everything back then:
like it was the whole world.

At one, you touched the autumn leaves
for the very first time.
You crinkled them in your fingers
and laughed
like they were the funniest thing
in the whole wide world.

At two, you chased a butterfly
through the garden on wobbly legs.
You fell down.
You got up.
You fell down again.
You got up again.
That was the year you learned
that getting up is the brave part.

At two, you discovered your shadow.
You waved — it waved back.
You stomped — it stomped too.
You tried to pick it up
and couldn't understand
why it wouldn't come with you.

The butterfly waited, you know.
It sat on a daisy and watched
while you dusted off your knees.
Even butterflies know
that the bravest thing
is to try again.

Your shadow followed you everywhere
that autumn.
Through the leaves,
across the grass,
all the way to the letterbox
and back.
Your very first best friend.

At three, you jumped in every puddle
the autumn rain left behind.
Mud on your boots.
Laughter in the air.
The ducks at the pond watched
and wondered if maybe —
just maybe —
you were part duck.

At three, you named everything.
The tree was called Tall.
The cat was called Soft.
The moon was called Night Light.
And you — you decided —
you were called Brave.

At four, you climbed the old gum tree.
Not very high —
but high enough.
You looked out over the garden
and felt big for the first time.
A chocolate Easter bilby waited below.
You earned every bite.

At four, you built a cubby house
from sticks and a bedsheet.
It was the best house
in the whole world,
and you were the king —
or the queen —
of everything inside it.

From up there,
the whole world looked like a painting.
Autumn had painted everything gold —
the amber, the russet, the green.
And you thought:
I did not know the world was this big.
I did not know I was this brave.

Inside the cubby, you served
invisible tea in acorn cups
and told stories
to the leaves.
The leaves were very impressed.
So were we.

And now — five.
Five whole years of you.
You stand in a paddock full of flowers
and Easter eggs hidden in the grass,
and you blow a dandelion wish
into the wide, wide sky.

And now — five.
Five candles on a cake.
Five fingers held up proudly.
Five years of becoming
the most wonderful you.

Five Autumns for You

What's included

Written Like a Love Letter

Golden Australian Autumn

The Gift That Makes Grown-Ups Cry

Handmade Watercolour Feel

Customer Reviews

The tears page

Beth N.

Amit K.

Best 5th bday gift

Leonie P.

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