What I want you to know about seven.
What I want you to know a about yourself at seven is that you're ridiculously funny. Not ten minutes ago you had me laughing so hard I couldn't do your nose spray. You have the most infectious giggle. Sometimes during a tickle fight you laugh so hard you can't breathe. (You totally get that from me.) You love to run. And you run better than anyone I know. You run with your curls bouncing and your arms flailing and you giggle the whole time. You run without a care in the world, and that's how you run no matter who's watching or where you are.
I want you to know that you play volleyball with the same sort of bounce. You dance, skip and gallop between positions. You literally jump for joy when you hit it over and put your tiny little hands up to your mouth in surprise. You love to play as much as you love to chat with the other girls when you're waiting to be put back in the game.
You are wonderfully girly. Last week you were asked to describe yourself in one word. You said you needed two: silly and sparkles. So you are also incredibly self aware. You love pink. You love glitter. You love stuffed animals. And of course you love not stuffed animals.
You love Chumlee. He's this gianmormous ball of fur, just all dog. I remember coming into your room and you were all pinked and glittered out. There was Chum looking all tangled and crazy. You were trying to get a tennis ball out of his drooly mouth and were ever so politely saying, "Chum please let go of the ball. You have to let go." Chum had a grip and his rear end up in the air and tail going a mile a minute.
You have a heart bigger than your curls. Every evening you want to pray before bed, and I love your heart. You pray for family, the dogs, grandparents. But then you always surprise me with the prayers for people I have never met. You pray for your friend's parents who are getting divorced. You pray for people in the midst of hurricanes. And you have a special place in your heart for people who are ill.
The other night when I asked you to bring me a book to read you brought me the Bible. I read you Psalm 139. After I was finished you said, "Mom will you please mark that one for me. I like that one."
I want you to know that you are a Daddy's girl. You ask when he's going to be home. You run to hug him, and you love to wrestle with him. You have his love of drawing and his big brown eyes. You have his 'serious face' and his sense of humor. When he's with you he goes from this big scary manly man to this tenderhearted Daddy who would do anything for you.
You're flighty. You are kind and sweet and truly every bit as forgetful as your Mom. And when you realize you've forgotten something, you are quick to say you're sorry. I love that about you. You got my love of decorating things. Your room is full of displays and little arrangements.
You adore your little brother. The two of you still have sleepovers on the weekend. I hear you giggling together on Saturday mornings while I pretend to be asleep. When he gets sick and I split the two of you up, you stand at opposite ends of the hallway to my room and wave at each other. You helped teach him how to read. You encourage him. And hug him at least twice a day.
You fight. It usually lasts all of three minutes before the two of you are running thru the house. You like to pick him up. You usually drop him, Then both of you giggle.
You like to have time to yourself. Some days after school you disappear into your room and your own little world of make believe. Sometimes I sneak into the hallway to listen. You still love your Littlest Pet Shop toys that we started buying you when you were only two. I mean they're glittery and animals, of course you still love them.
You're smart. Your report card that showed up this week was all A+'s. You love to read. Oh and you love to listen to Hank the Cowdog books on cd.
You're sensitive. You cry when I comb your beautiful hair. You're quick to hug and tell me how much you love me. You notice when someone is getting their feelings hurt, and you are quick to try to fix it.
And you are tough. Underneath all the wonderful over the top girliness you are tough. You get scared about iv's and labwork. Then you hold perfectly still and don't make a peep while the nurses work. You don't like all the pills and meds, but you do them anyway because you know that's what has to be done. Day in and day out you fight this fight and don't let it control who you are becoming.
You get frustrated with CF, but you push past it and just get on with your world of pink and love. And sometimes you cry and whisper very softly that you don't want to have CF anymore. Then I cry too.
What I want you to know about seven is that it's this amazing age. One moment you're my beautiful baby who just wants to curl up in my lap. The next you're this brave, giggly, bubbly young woman who's future I'm excited beyond words to get to see.
Happy 8th Birthday my sweet Gracie Lee Cearley.
