...that I didn't hear you say this. It's hard enough for me to believe that you're 7 years old already with an eye toward the 'cool teenagers.' Even though you're homeschooled and fairly sheltered from many of the influences that cause little girls to grow up way too soon, you're still growing up so quickly it makes my head swim.
So today in the van when you mentioned something very innocent, and seemingly trivial, I felt my heart stop, just for a second.
It seems that you've finally realized that all your cousins call your paternal grandfather "Papa." When you were a baby, it came out "Pop-pop," and we all thought it was so cute that we kept on calling him that. Your brother has followed suit.
But, today, you announced that you think you'll adopt the family tradition and start calling him "Papa" instead. And your brother said that he thinks he'll do the same.
This is fine, and I"m all for family solidarity. But, it's a symbol of something larger, I'm afraid.
My first baby is not such a baby anymore. In fact, you're almost not a little girl anymore, either. You're approaching the official 'big girl' mark. In Lands End catalog, you're a 'big girl' when you reach size 8. We're just about there.
I promise I"m not trying to hold you back. I love to see you accomplish new things, overcome fears, and develop new skills. I am thrilled to imagine the possibilities of God's plan for you.
Forgive me if I grieve, if just for a moment, when I realize we're moving from one phase to the next. It's OK, it's good, and I'm happy you still like to sit on my lap and snuggle, even though your legs are way too long and we barely fit in the chair.
I hope I graduate, too, into someone more mature, more patient, more like the mother God wants me to be. I'm the mom, you're my sweet daughter, and I pray this journey we're on brings us always closer to each other, even though some moments are rough.
I love you, sweet baby girl. I mean beautiful, almost-big girl.
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