Seven.

My baby turns seven today.

When I think about where she was and how much younger she looked just one year ago I’m struck with the reality that she is growing up entirely too fast. And by “struck” I mean “hit over the head with the sledge hammer of reality”. TOO. FAST. (This is probably the point where my dad picks up the phone to remind me that HIS daughter is 27! ;))

She’s at this point in time where she’s still young enough to ask to cuddle on the couch with me at night but old enough that she’s made it clear not to speak of the cuddling in front of her friends. Young enough to still want to play dress up and at home but old enough to try and dance like Britney and sing like Mariah. She’s on the brink of the transformation from Little Girl to Independent Kid.

As a mommy, you have this inherent desire to never let that happen. She’s still nieve enough to experience the joy of Santa Clause, the Toothfiary and the Easter Bunny. And the thought that this will probably be the last months we get to experience that is sad. For both of us.

Then I think of my dad. And I’m reminded of the reason you have kids in the first place… so they can have grandkids for you! And you get to do those magical, fun things all over again. Take them to theme parks, and movies, and know no matter what you buy them for their birthday it will automatically be cooler than what their parents gave them, and tell them to pull your finger…

I guess I’m okay with her growing up. I’ll miss the days I was the magical being who could cure everything by kissing it… but I also look forward to being the embarrassing being who walks into a room when she’s 14 and all of her friends are there that starts dancing like Britney and singing like Mariah. OH THE FUN IT WILL BE. 😉