It's 11:00pm. Not officially your birthday yet, but I wanted to get a head start. So I wrote you a poem. It's not just any poem though... It's one of those that is really meaningful but doesn't rhyme at all. Here it goes.
You're getting so old.
You're about to be able to drive.
I guess I'll let you drive my car.
I'm scared though.
I remember when you were a baby.
Now you're not a baby.
The end. Love you Jenny!