This week my daughter celebrated her 10th birthday. Remember when you were 10? Me neither. I can barely believe that she's 10 already. She's my youngest...my baby. I hate cliches as much as the next person but, wow, seems like only yesterday she was (insert adorable baby behaviour here).
She was an easy baby to care for. She rarely fussed, allowing me to dedicate my full attention to her busy, toddling brother. I remember once going out the door, locking it and starting for the car before I remembered that she was fastened in her carseat inside the front hall. I quickly returned to the house with visions of her red-faced and wailing in protest but, no, I found her waiting patiently for me to return.
She has a gentle spirit and a kind heart. She leaves a distinct impression on anyone she meets whether that's a teacher, a friend, a relative or a visitor. I worry sometimes that she is too compliant, but every now and again she exercises her will and it helps to ease my mind. She doesn't like it when people use poor table manners, swear, act mean towards others, or commit any other equally despicable social faux pas. She almost always uses her best behaviour and expects all others to do the same.
She doesn't think I'm cool, but she does think I'm funny. She doesn't think I have any sense of style, but she'll still let me buy her clothes. She normally takes very good care of her personal possessions but she doesn't keep a tidy bedroom. She smiles when I sing out loud, but she says I have a terrible singing voice. She worries like an old lady but she mothers like a pro. She dresses like a diva, but she refuses to accessorize her hair. She is wonderful.
She reminds me of the inherent good in others, the innocence of childhood, and the timelessness of grace. She's a lesson I learn everyday. She has a beautiful soul.
Happy Birthday Baby!
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