Today Faith turns 7. She has been count­ing down for quite some time now. She counted through Emma’s birth­day, which is exactly 20 days before hers. So, she just added 20 to what­ever Emma’s count­down was. That’s math, right?

She is so eager to grow up. I want her to stay lit­tle. She’s the baby, you know.

She thought that with 7, she would be able to get rid of the car booster seat. We looked up the law the other day. You have to be 8. She wasn’t happy about that. She said she’s 18. I told her she was short for 18. I could see the wheels spin­ning as she tried for a come­back to that.

She’s seven. No longer six. Where does the time go? She’s grow­ing in grace and in wis­dom. Seven year old wis­dom. Which for Faith really is more like eigh­teen. Can I bot­tle her up? My heart aches because she’s the last one, so far as we can tell. And she still hugs and snug­gles and thinks that Daddy hung the moon. And she tries to kiss my neck. Which I don’t let her do. Usu­ally. And then I act like she didn’t do it. She greets me with a joy­ous smile every morn­ing. So happy to be awake and home with her fam­ily. Oh, how I trea­sure these days of small things.

‘Cause she’s short. Like a 7 year old ought to be.

Happy birth­day, baby. I love you most!

**To clarify…the “most” part doesn’t refer to my love for her over her sib­lings.  It’s just a lit­tle thing we say to each other. We try to out-love each other. And the lit­tle stinker always tries to get the last word.

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