Little One is Eight

(Alternative title: Man, Am I Getting Old)


This was Little One’s birthday weekend. Eight years ago she came into the world … wanting to sleep. She slept so much we nearly had to return her to the hospital for intravenous feeding. She still does sleep, too, going to bed usually between 8 and 8:30 at night and waking up … when I yell her name from the bottom of the stairs on a school morning.

Anyway, she had a birthday party for a half-dozen friends at a bakery, and they all spent ninety minutes making chocolate this and chocolate that. I’ve been partaking of the leftovers all weekend. Friday evening we had dinner and cake and she opened up her gifts – lots of cool clothes; a sassy jacket that makes her look, er, twelve; some games and bracelet kits from her friends; a pair of sparkling red shoes; Dracula, an edited version for third-graders; a recorder. The last two gifts were inspired by me.

To celebrate, I took her to the DMV with me to renew my license. No, just kidding, I took her there for company as I waited on lines for two hours, not to celebrate her birthday. She read the first fifteen pages of Stoker’s novel. Then we went to Blimpie’s for a birthday lunch. Then, soccer (her team won!), then a playdate, then we went over to our friends’ the next town over and watched their kids (with ours) while they went out and celebrated fifteen years.

Today we lounged around the house doing laundry, cleaning up, watching the football games. All in all, a very exhausting weekend. But a fun one nonetheless.

A shout-out to the MVP, my mother, who came, cooked, cleaned, and conquered. The girls loved her!