Morgan at Seven

Seven years! Oh Morgan, how can it be? My funny little squishy baby pixie. And now you're so long and tall and all elbows and gappy smile, blossoming into a grown-up girl, barely the tiniest trace of baby left to you.

I love how you twist your mouth when you're confused. I love the sparkle in your eyes. I love your ready laugh, and the funny little baby voice you do when you're trying to explain something to me. I love how you take care of people and the way you notice when people are lonely or sad. I see how you quietly go along with things, so often, how you love to be led and how you love to be approved of. I love your quirks. I love how you advocate for yourself persistently and calmly, and how unshakeable you are in what you know. I love your otherness, your strangeness to me, how different we are from each other. I just *love* being your mama.





Keep being weird. Keep being sure. Keep being you. I'm so proud of you, pixie girl.