March seems to be a wee bit confused in my estimation. It came in ever so gently only a few weeks ago and now I would not be surprised to find my house has joined Auntie Emm's somewhere over the rainbow. Shew!
I have only five short weeks left in this semester which means projects, papers, observations, and tests are keeping me hopping. That and the nasty little strain of Influenza that decided to come for a very extended visit at our home. Yuck!
I have some Spring pics I want to share but am in no hurry since Spring has only just officially begun.
I would rather spotlight the biggest happening in March: our littlest family member turned eight! How can that possibly be so? T, you have turned into such a lovely creature. I find myself staring at your otherness from me. Gawking is rude, I know, but it's so hard to be mindful not to stare at someone as captivating as yourself. These days you tickle my ears with endless stories of your daily happenings, always punctuated with great dramatic flair. I love the stories you write, simply for your own pleasure. The latest you shared with the family, Slave Love, actually has all the makings of a positively wonderful piece of historical fiction. Nothing pleases me more than your ever incresing love of reading. The books get longer and longer but the theme remains the same, animals. I love your consistency, that for five years now you have not wavered from your declaration of "When I grow up I want to be a vet!". I wince sometimes when you tell me of your latest friendship woes, and how truely wrong you think everyone else always is. I pray in time you will learn to see your own place in your story, good and bad. I love our long talks, sometimes in hushed whispers lying side by side in your bed, door closed so "the boys" don't hear us. I revel in your honesty. Your willingness to tell the truth, even when it might get you in trouble. I laugh when I see you climbing on everything, precariously balanced, rolling in the grass with the dog, because it reminds me so much of the girl I once was. And I gasp sometimes, one hand over my eyes, barely wanting to look as you peddle your bicycle full force DOWN the biggest hill on our street. I never was a risk taker. You get that from your Daddy. I admire the modesty from with , it seems, you came from the womb (you always shrieked whenever you had to be undressed)! I repsect that, and I pray you rub off on the girls you encounter on your journey through life. You are an amazing gift and we love you so much.
Glimpses into Girlhood
Six years old
Seven years old
Eight years old
