As the mama, I am finding it hard to believe you are already nine years old. It seems like just yesterday that I was waiting until the right day to get up and move from the forced bed rest the doctor prescribed to make sure you were born as healthy as possible.
You were in a hurry to get here, sweet girl, and you have been in a hurry ever since.
You wanted money in an "envewope" at two. Quite the money manager already.
You wanted to wear make up at three.
You wanted to get your ears pierced at four. We waited until you were seven.
You talked grown up from the very beginning. You never used one syllable of baby talk.
You talk about your plans for the future, and you think very deeply about subjects most nine year olds would skate by.
My prayer for you, my precious Sweetcheeks, is that this year you would slow down a little bit and continue to be a little girl for a little longer.
I love it that you still like to play with dolls.
I love it that you still like to listen to me read to you.
I love it that you still like to snuggle up next to me in the mornings when you are the first one up . . . again : )
I know you must grow up, and I want you to be a nine-year-old, but I just don't want either of us to miss what being nine can be at its very best.
So, Happy Birthday, dear Sweetcheeks! May your next year be full of your life verse, darling girl:
"Finally, brothers, (and sisters) whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." Philippians 4:8