Eight Years Old

There was no mold to break when God created Aubree. That was the day that God said, I want to make a work of art - free hand.

I find it absolutely mind boggling that I am choking up because my daughter turns eight today. I sailed through all three children turning one, even two. I kind of snickered to myself when other moms were crying on the first days of kindergarten. I was so excited for my kids, I couldn't stop to think about the sad part, yet here I am tearing up because my second child hit eight.

Maybe it is because she terrifies me with the things she says. She has announced most confidently that she will never be older than eight. No, she does not have a terminal illness, at least not that I am aware of. She also tends to look both ways before crossing the street and always wears her seatbelt. I had to ask a few more questions, it turns out that she has just hit paranoia about age early. Instead of being 29 for twenty years, she has picked out the ripe old age of eight. Why? Because nine is old. Good to know.

Maybe it is exactly because I am afraid that she is growing up, and growing out of those annoying, yet so endearing, quirks of hers. I miss the littler girl she used to be, yet part of me is screaming "Hallelujah!" that she has calmed down a bit. She has always been a little bit off of the temperature of normal. She tends to take something normal and add a few degrees, or maybe more than a few degrees.

I know that one day I will be beaming at the beautiful young woman that she will become, but gosh darnit, for now, i am okay with her being eight for as long as she wants.