Not to be outdone by all the grandparents who sent cards to The Caterpillar for her birthday (as her parents, we should be excused from the requirement of including a card with all gifts, amiright? canigetawitness?), The Dormouse realized that sending a card is A Thing, no thanks to our example, and made this for her sister's birthday:

Here's the transcription:
Sweet dreams, my little love
When you wake, wake above
Thou [sic] while you sleep, who
Loves you? Me!
Then you are turning 3!

The fact that she, at six years old, is a better poet than I am at fortymumblesomething, is, shall we say, demoralizing at best.

And that's all I have to say about that.