Maile Girl on her 7th birthday
And then, just like that, she was seven.
She has a big ol’ hole in her mouth where an absolute monster of a tooth is working its way in. I love her.
She keeps Christine and I on our toes – she hears everything, remembers more and her logic will twist you in knots (and even when she is patently, blatantly, completely wrong – she’ll wiggle and work to find a way to the light). I love her.
She’s the most cuddly little girl ever – perhaps watching TV is bad, but nothing can be this bad when you have this little munchkin curled up by your side. I love her.
Give her a few minutes in a new place and she’ll make a friend. Leave her for a few hours and there will be hugs on the way out the door. I love her.
She still gets scared by cartoons made for 3 year olds. I love her.
Yet, she gets braver every day on her bike and running, jumping, exploring this great big city. I love her.
She’ll sit down and work on a project for hours and creates things that baffle and amaze me. I love her.
This weekend I gave her a new book about coding and she carried it around with her all day long. I love her.
She can be the best, most caring, most loving, most fun big sister in the whole world. And sometimes she’s not. I love her.
She grew up so much this year – she developed these things called emotions and they ran wild on her – she worked so hard to try to figure it all out – and she is doing an amazing job. I love her.
It’s getting hard to remember the times before she was with us … and that’s just okay by me.
I love her.