Mary Mac turned seven today and I am at a loss for words. How. Did. This. Happen.
“Enjoy it while you can because time will fly,” I have been told repeatedly by those who have gone before me. And they were right.
Right that one moment she’s a snuggly baby, leaving a trail of pink in every room. The very next moment, she’s pontificating about the many varieties of pink available in nail polish.
Right that if I close my eyes I can still feel her weight on my hip, carrying her as often as possible just because I could. In a flash, that baby’s height is well past my hip, and when exasperated, places a hand on her own to show disagreement.
Right, that chubby arms once outstretched for my embrace, are now slender and long, and just yesterday used to wave me away from in front of the television for a better view of Joe Jonas.
Right, that there was a time her dependence was joyfully all consuming, certain needs that could only be fulfilled by a parent. The time is spent now guiding independent footsteps that get farther and farther away.
She is seven today. And time has flown.
But I have enjoyed and will always cherish every single second.
Happy birthday sweet baby girl. You are sunshine and giggles and everything that is good and right in this world. You are so loved.