The Magic of Seven

"When you ask me how old I am tomorrow when I wake up, I will say, "SEVEN," my beautiful girl announced the night before, slipping into a clean pink nightgown.

"Gueth what?" the normally shy girl who's missing her front teeth asked the clerk at the checkout counter. "My birthday is in two days and I'm going to be SEVEN." Or THEVEN.

I can't help but love that about her. She was fine with her presents, but has never been a squealer. She cheerfully accepted the fact that it's not her year for a party (we alternate birthday parties with special outings with a friend, and this is her Special Outing year). She wanted to frost her own cake with her cousins, and the results looked loving, but not professional (she is her mother's daughter). But above all, the point was that she had now crossed the threshold into a brand new year, full of newfound maturity and promise.

At what point, between ages seven and thirty three, will that feeling pass?

In the meantime, she can stand as tall as she wants to.

P.S. In the photo, Eliza and her doll are wearing their birthday outfits, handmade for them by Shelli of Butterfly Egg Designs (we know how I am about sewing clothes; thank goodness there are gifted people out there). Shelli did a rush order for me at no extra charge and did a bang-up job. Hooray for Shelli!  Hooray for supporting work-at-home moms!

P.P.S. You can find another story about my girl's birthday rite of passage here.