I asked you for one last 8yo hug last night. I am usually pretty upbeat about aging children - the fact they are growing up means I'm doing a pretty swell job keeping them alive, right?! Plus, each new year hails fresh milestones, deeper conversations, and an ever-emergent personality. But 9 seems so much older than 8. It's officially older kid territory. And we're taking the first baby steps into the bittersweet letting go.
I'm thankful for your Peter Pan-like nature. The way you tap dance to your own beat. Your laugh that still lights up the room. The way you feel all the feelings, unabashedly. The way you walk into a room with one intention and make three new discoveries on your roundabout way. The way you teach, lead, protect, and love. The way you come into things in your own time. Your insightful consideration for all humankind.
You gave me the gift of motherhood when it felt like an impossible dream. You teach me patience for the things that must be done on a clock I can't control, validation and appreciation for my own big feelings, and a magnifying glass to see the tiny wonders of the world that we adults forget.
You greeted me this morning, "Mommy, do you want your first 9 year old hug?" Of course I did! And you know what? 9 is pretty awesome too.