7 & 7.
(In case you’re not as libation-savvy as I, you should know that’s what you call a drink made with 7-Up and Seagram’s 7 whiskey. Get it? )
That’s what my older two are right now. Both seven years old.
But this one…
Though she’s still on the small side certainly, it staggers me to see how she’s grown.
… to this???
I once feared that I, the oh-so-girly, jewelry- and nail polish-loving one, would somehow birth a tomboy. I figured it’d be God’s little joke on me. And, truly, that would have been just fine.
But I needn’t have feared. This one is spunky princess down to her core. Though she more closely resembles her daddy than her mommy, there are definitely shades of me in her, too.
She has the same wicked belly laugh she’s had since she was a baby. She’s so fiercely stubborn about some things, and, realistically, still so needy in other ways.
She is popular and well-loved at school simply because she is sweet. Just this year, she’s learned to stand her ground and to speak up for herself when “friends” don’t behave like friends.
Seven years ago, I sat, drugged-up as I recovered from surgery, and watched this tiny, tiny little baby fight to keep her place in this world. This morning, I will take her and a few little friends for manicures and pizza…
God is so, SO good.