My Daughter

When I was pregnant with The Princess, it never even seemed like a possibility that she would be a she. Perhaps it was because I was so wrapped up in little boy things at the time that imagining a world of pink and purple just didn't seem possible. And then one muggy Auvergnate morning, she was there. Delicately pink and tiny. The sweetest little girl I'd ever seen.

And today, she's 7. Seven.

I look at her now, wearing every shade of pink that she can find in her closet, and I just breathe a sigh of good fortune for having this wonder in our lives. I know these days of fairies and sparkles and shiny dresses won't last forever so I'm trying to let her (and me) enjoy it as much as we can.

She's serious this one. Rational like her father and yet when she laughs, it's her whole being that's free. She's social and smart, sporty as hell, and charmingly reserved. She'll let you in when she's ready to let you in. And not a second sooner.

She's helpful and loving even though sometimes when she whips Rosie around like a doll, I have a minor coronary. It's that determined nature, that "I can do it, MOM" attitude I love and that I fear for when she's 15.

She gave me the most amazing hug the other day and I didn't want to let go. I worry the most about how we will grow and change as a mother and daughter over the years and I just hope that she always knows how much I love her. This relationship has to be one of the most dynamic and amazing I've ever had. How can I ever thank her for that?

The Princess is 7 today. Happy Birthday, my beautiful, beautiful daughter.