In these beautiful and wild and crazy eight years, she has given me more joy and laughter and heartache than I ever could have imagined possible. At just 9 months old, she started walking, and I have been trying to keep up with each new step of independence ever since. But it’s not easy.
When she started Kindergarten, I had the privilege of walking her into her classroom every day. It was always a bright spot in my day. And then she started 1st grade at “the big kid school.” For the first two weeks, she had me walk her to class, just like we had always done. And then one day, she just looked at me and said “Mama, you can just drop me off at parent drop off.”
“Are you sure? You don’t want me to walk you in?”
“Mama, it’s ok, I’m a big kid, in case you didn’t notice.”
And my heart wept. I did notice. She had grown up so darn quick. Too fast. To me, she'll always be that sweet four-year-old who loved to dress up as Cinderella. And wear fancy dresses everywhere.
As I was driving away, I felt tears come to my eyes. You would have thought I was pulling away from her college dorm, knowing I wouldn’t hear from her until she was out of money or clean clothes. Or both.
Quit being dramatic, I told myself. But even as a mother to a wildly independent child, something about watching her walk into school for the first time by herself made me think of all the ways I’ll have to let her go over a lifetime. The truth is, I don’t really want to let her go, yet I’m so proud that she has the self-confidence to take those steps away from me.
And now, as a newly eight-year-old, I watch her take steps that are bigger and bigger. And she does them all with spunk and individuality. I think that God put more personality into that little body than should be allowed, and I cannot wait to see what both of them do with it.
I love this child more and more with each passing day; not a day goes by that she doesn’t surprise me with her unique perspective on life. She makes me laugh out loud. She makes me proud. She tests my patience. But this only serves to help us both grow and realize that she is an individual and doesn’t fit into any preconceived box. She reminds me that these are the magical years. And to hold on loosely…for as long as she’ll let me.
As much as I look forward to watching her grow into a beautiful young woman, I am also a little sad that turning eight means the pure, little girl sweetness has just about run it’s course. Of course, this child has already filled us up with her share of drama, but underneath it all, the innocent, free-spirited child is always there. Each passing year just makes it a little bit harder to find.
But the greatest gift I could ever ask for is getting to see
the world through her eyes. It is funny. And spontaneous. And magical. And
chaotic. And intricately detailed. And absolutely beautiful.
happy 8th birthday, sweet girl.
happy 8th birthday, sweet girl.
