Seven Years
Seven years.
Seven years of challenging moments.
Seven years of wiping runny noses, and drying tears.
Seven years of kissing owies.
And laughter.
And singing.
And stories.
It seems like nearly every day now, you say or do something that makes me catch my breath. You seem, sometimes, so very grown-up.
Happy birthday, baby girl.
Slightly Similar Nonsense:
- Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes
- A Letter To The Four Year Old
- Dose of Happy Monday: My Birthday
- Halloween and Slutty Costumes
- A Bittersweet Bowl of Oatmeal
Tags: birthday, kids, miss q, miss question, parenting