I had to stare for a minute at one of the birthday cards that came in the mail this week. A big number 7 on the front. Seven? Really? We’ve been at this parenting thing for seven years? How is that possible? But it is, Katherine turned seven on Wednesday.
You lose track of time when you’re in the middle of the day to day grind. I don’t always think of it as a routine but it is one and it’s constant…time to get up…where’s your socks…dinner’s ready…brush your teeth….let’s go go go! Spring turns into summer. One day it’s June, the next it’s the end of August. You pick your head up and your baby girl is seven.
She’s inherited her father’s height; we’ll see how tall she gets. Sometimes its seems like she is all arms and legs. Her eyes are bright blue and there’s a small crop of freckles on each cheek. Together they give her a certain sparkle. She’s inherited my strong emotions, the littlest thing can be a sudden crisis. Her hair is still trying to decide whether it’s going to be curly or straight, some days it’s full of body, others it’s flat. She’s excited about starting second grade next week and she has an opinion on just about everything if you ask her. She still sings along to the radio in the car, something I hope she never feels too embarrassed to do. We’re still waiting on that first loose tooth. She’s a budding gymnast who loves to dance around in skirts and play with her dolls but then join her dad in watching Ninja Warrior and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Clearly, she won’t be bogged down by stereotypes.
Happy Birthday to my little girl! I hope number 7 for you is full of luck and happiness!
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