My sweet, sassy baby is now three. Which I suppose means I should stop referring to her as a baby, but I know I won’t. She says I should keep calling her a baby, except when she’s a grown up.

She is so very full of life, and fire and magic. She’s brave and fearless and shy all at the same time. She told me that her favorite part about today was going to sleep, which is ironic since she’s refusing to go to bed tonight.

I love this child, more than I ever imagined I was capable of, and I’m so glad I get to call her mine.

Today she is seven. We’re big on birthdays in this family, but after this year, this birthday feels even more important.

I love watching her grow. I sat her in my lap tonight and told her that when she was a baby, I wanted her to stay little forever, but that every year she’s proved that as she grows, she’s even better than the last. Spending time with her is genuinely wonderful, and so rewarding. Watching her grow into a kind, curious, creative person is such a gift.

I love being her mom, and I can’t wait to see who she becomes in her seventh year on this planet.