Dear Grace,
It seems like only yesterday that to came into this world. With round, soft cheeks and dark brown eyes, you looked back at me in a way that gave me goosebumps. It was as though you had been here before. Even though everyone told me to sleep when you did, how could I? I had to stare at you, watch your tiny chest rise and fall, watch all that newborn goodness that I knew in my heart would be fleeting and gone before I knew it. Today is your 8th birthday. Of the 2816 days you have been on this earth, there are only few that I can account for... For the days blur into weeks, weeks into months and months into years.
At 1 you would potter around, picking up this and that, happy to be by yourself and follow me around - a book in one hand, Ruby in the other.
At 2 you would talk to the family in a language foreign to us, but you seemed quite positive that we understood you the way you would use your hands and eyebrows to express yourself. You were gentle with Tom, he loved and adored you. We moved out on our own, just you, Tom and I. I was amazed at your resilience.
At 3 your vocabulary had become so extensive that we would have great little conversations together, tea parties and book time. I'd let you be the 'hair-desser', and although it was a painful experience for me, you'd have a great old time putting my hair in knots. Bless.
At 4 the stuborness and intelliegence that is so prevalent today began to unfold. Hand on hips, pouted lips, that was you in a nutshell. Still so beautiful none the less, sometimes I had to laugh at your temper tantrums. Trying to juggle uni, work and two small babies, you were never difficult for me, I loved coming home to your open arms.
At 5 you sure developed into your own little person. There was no one like you. Campassion and determination were traits that had come into play. You had a beautiful smile, with a gap between your two front teeth. Your hair was fine, but there was lots of it. Soft, mousey brown and always wild in the morning. We bought our first house and you start calling me Mum instead of Mummy.
At 6 you had well and truly settled into school. You would sit at the front of the class, and read aloud a book that your friends had chosen. Your teacher told me that they loved you reading to them. You would come home from school, full of stories about your day. Half eaten lunch remained in your lunchbox, vegemite still on your face. Birthday invitations were never in shortage. You took the top bunk because you weren't scared. You went to bed at 7.45pm, "because you're one year older than Tom".
At 7 you told me I was your best friend. You told me that no matter where we lived, you would always love me. You wrote me books, left me letters. You would play outside, never with shoes on unless I reminded you 6 times. You hated vegetables, but lollies? Never a problem. You grinned that cheeky grin that sent the tooth fairy broke. You still had tantrums. Still carry a book in one hand, Ruby in the other.
At 8 I cant wait to see what unfolds. The girl you are growing into makes me proud and let's me know that I must be doing something right in this world.
I love you.
Love Mummy. xx
