Lucky Number Seven!

Dear Myla,

     Despite our claims that we wanted to cancel your birthday, it has come and gone.  Every year since you turned five has felt super weird because you're a big kid now.  In fact, I'm venturing completely out of baby/toddler world into real kid world, and it's weird.  One consolation is that our house is now at 80% for people who wipe their own butts. Praise be.

     Earlier this year, when asking about your birthday party, you consistently wanted to go roller skating and and eat at Olive Garden.  DEAL.  That is precisely the kind of celebration we can make happen.  Though we didn't have a real party, we did just move closer to cousin Weston, so we invited him along for the ride!

     Just for reference, you and Weston started off together as little old grumpy men:

(Christmas 2010)

     Look at y'all now!

     All of the roller skating photos are blurry, because you were going so fast.

     Myla, it's been a really good year.  You are such a helpful big sister, and I have to stop myself from letting you do all the parenting around here.

     My favorite thing that has happened this year is that you have learned how to read!  Let's be real here: you have not (yet) struggled in school at all, but you haven't been a child prodigy either, so you began this year just on track with phonetic awareness.  But I turned around one day this year, and you were reading a book-- a real book!  I wanted to call all of our family and shout it from the rooftops.  Bless your teachers for whatever magic they have used to bring us to this point.

Some of the things you have been loving this year are: 

• wearing your bathrobe over your pajamas
• tracking your steps
• Youtube ballet lessons
• riding your bike
• Sunday Sundaes-- Our family's (totally copied from a friend) solution for desserts.  I always say, if I offered you $5 million dollars tomorrow or ice cream right now, you'd pick the ice cream every time.  

Things you are still working on:

• swimming independently
• tying your shoes
• doing your own ponytail
• not arguing with your poor, tired mother 

     Myla, we love you so much. From the first moments when you tricked us into thinking parenting was easy to now when we realize the truth, you have been a joy.  You are the child who showed us how our parents turn insane from the love of a grandchild.  Seriously.  They cannot be stopped.

   I'm glad you're mine.  I love you, Stinkyface.

Mom