Seven

My Dear Hannah,

Today is your last day of being six years old. Today I watched you skip outside while heartily blowing a harmonica with carefree abandon. It brought tears to my eyes to see what a big girl you've become, and how lovely you are becoming.

I remember - as if it were yesterday - going to the hospital 7 years ago today to give birth. I remember crying in the Doctor's office a few days before that I thought I would be eternally pregnant, and you would never come out! The doctor assured me that "Chance of baby coming out: 100%!" It seems so silly now, but even now as I'm pregnant I can imagine one of those kicks to feel like it was yours.

Right now I can hear a happy harmonica outside. I think of how much joy you have brought Daddy and me! We named you Hannah Joy, because #1 Hannah was the first and only name that we liked at the time (and it means "Grace") and #2 We just 'knew' you would be our joy - and you are! Only you know exactly where that silly tickle spot is on my neck, because it is the same on yours. Only you can amaze us with reciting your history cards - something like 150 events in history from creation to Henry V now - in perfect order. Only you could teach yourself to read.Only you would be so stubborn to refuse to be potty trained until YOU were ready! I could go on and on...You make us smile, my dear!

Tomorrow is your birthday, and we will celebrate seven wonderful years of you. Only you would choose pink peppermint cupcakes - because you knew that I always wanted that when I was your age. I'm looking forward to relishing them with you and going to the snow and having a snowball fight!

I love spending time with you. This year I think we should: have more tea parties, play dress-up together, swim every day in the summer, sing really loud together (like Daniel), try and talk Daddy into a trip to Disneyland, and of course do lots of fun school. (Only you would think school is just for fun!) Your interests are so varied! You are the keeper of random facts! You are the memorizer of everything that I can never remember! You are my ballerina girl who I have to make sure who I have to make sure I get you out of your leotard before you go play in the mud! I thought Uncle Andy summarized you well at Thanksgiving when he said "She is the perfect blend of tomboy and girly-girl."

Most of all, you are a gift from God. If there is one thing I hope you remember about me when some day I am gone, it is that I loved you, every single minute of every single day - even when I had to discipline you. You are such a gift and a joy.

I love you sweet girl!

Mommy