You're about to turn eight years old. Eight. I don't remember much about eight. Second grade. Mrs. Feeney. She taught me how to tell time. And, that sums up what I remember about being eight.
It's not a milestone, it's not exciting. It's just a solid even number.
I was so excited to meet you eight years ago. You have exceeded my expectations in every way. Other than your straight hair and brown eyes... Because, seriously, how did that happen? I'm sure you can tell me all about genomes and genetic makeup but I don't really have the time tonight.
I love your perspective on life. How you have everything figured out at the ripe old age of eight. How you literally don't care what anyone thinks. I hope you keep that forever. Because, I can tell you that it's a challenge - even at my age to keep that perspective.
Your vocabulary is astounding. To use words like: allegedly, obviously, ridiculous - all in the proper way is pretty impressive. Except when you're using them against me. I don't care for that so much.
I admire your quest for learning. You mentioned in passing that you are reading the encyclopedias - well, why not? I guess? Who doesn't? And, they came with the house so... read away. Have fun. Nerd.
You're an old soul, Madison. You've taught me so much. You're my favorite almost eight year old. You surprise me everyday - with your knowledge, your kindness, your spirituality and your love.
I'm so thankful that you chose me to be your mother. I'm not sure I'm worthy, but you saw something there that was at least interesting! Or a project. Either way, I'm glad to know you.
I would love to freeze time and spend more time with you as a silly little girl but I know that isn't very realistic. Instead, I'm going to focus on enjoying every minute of your growth.
I love you, Madi Big.
Love,
Mom
<3
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