She is 8.
I remember being told she was coming. I remember moments of now what feels like a different girl. She used to wear footie-pajamas to bed. When I would wake her up in the morning and change her I remember how her little body would streeeetchhhh. It was just the oddest, sweetest thing to remember.
I remember little pink overalls with a toy elephant in the front pocket.
She is now 8. In many ways she is also a teenager. She sometimes likes to be alone.
And sometimes likes to act silly.
And when she is sick... she is dramatically sick.
And she is sensitive, and kind. She wants everyone to like her, and wants everyone to be happy on their special days, She loves her brother. She wants to be a doctor/bus driver/teacher when she is older. She already gets upset with appearances. She tries so hard. Everyday. She gives buckets of effort in a world she sometimes doesn't understand. She is protective over her brother. She is 8. She is the most perfect, newly 8, learning to grow little girl I could have ever wished for.
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