My sweet Hazel Grace,
You are seven-years-old and living your best life. This week you went to horse camp and had sleepovers with Lizzie, your cousin bestie, for multiple days before your Taylor Swift-themed party.
You are thoughtful and considerate but also sassy and fierce. You care deeply about your friends and have learned to navigate first-grade drama. Your teacher described you as quiet while I describe you as wild when playing with friends. You get super excited about things and have a hard time playing it cool.
Your reading skills began to take off shortly after the beginning of first grade. It started with the "Elephant and Biggie" books, then the level one readers, and within a month you were diving into any book on the shelf. You prefer reading independently to listening and I sometimes find you with a book light an hour after you've been tucked in. I always dreamed of having an avid reader and may have gotten one in you.
You did dance for the entirety of the school year and piano lessons for six months. You didn't love the hip-hop class until the recital, where your love of being on stage continued. Your skiing skills grew exponentially this year and you're signed up for another season of soccer in the fall. As you love to say, "Westie is your bestie," you guys laugh and play together constantly. Your obsession with both stuffed and real animals has persisted. You got your ears pierced on a whim in December. You talk about crushes often and have picked up some sass from your peers. This summer marked a developmental leap that makes you aware of how you look and feel embarrassed. You describe others as "trying to be cool."
A visit with a urologist revealed that your bladder muscles are underdeveloped which explains the urgency you've experienced since potty training. You're a snuggler and never want to be left out of anything. Your fashion sense has evolved into bike shorts and animal tee shirts with tutu's now a rare accessory. You no longer wear dresses and dislike stripes.
In early September you cut your hair at a sleepover with the Hights. You and Brady Mae were watching "The Parent Trap" and decided that, like the long-lost twins in the movie, if you cut your hair, you'd look the same. This was a surprisingly emotional event for both of us. As you learned, hair is just hair, but I was unexpectedly sad to see your long locks chopped into a bob. You hated the cut at first but it did, indeed, grow back quickly as this childhood right of passage was completed.
Being your mama is a sacred gift and the joy of my life. Your enthusiasm and zest bring so much life and love to our family. You are wholly and completely loved just as you are. Keep shining your light and leaning into who you are, sister friend. I can't wait to witness what your 7th year has in store.
