The countdown has been relentless for 10 days, each night you slip a note under my door detailing exactly how many sleeps until you turn 7. Today’s was scribbled hard with a gleeful hand.
One more sleep.
Surrounded by seven hearts and seven stars and of course the number seven.
I’m not going to lie, I have problems with you aging. My last baby, my little one who has faced more than her fair share so young. Who has grown up a feisty, primadonna, who knows everything about anything and can get away with murder.
You can’t wait.
Somehow I have raised you to love all things I don’t understand. Make – up and glamour, your party this year is in a flipping beauty salon – what happened to playing pass the parcel in the garden? Instead we are painting nails and going for lunch…
It would seem I can’t refuse you.
You still steal into my bed in the middle of the night, settle your little warm body next to mine and quietly whisper “Mummy, I’m here.” You lay in the crook of my arm as you did when you were a toddler and still feeding. I really should discourage the habit but I know the day will come too soon anyway, where I am not the centre of your world, where you don’t need me for everything.
My beautiful baby, growing up into a gorgeous little girl, it takes so little to make you smile and you can light up rooms around you. Words cannot even begin to describe how much I love my Libby-Sue.
But just slow down a little, life is not all about ‘getting big’, keep those imaginary playmates, never say you are too old to do something – but perhaps it is time you started making your own bed…
Look how far you have come…..
Happy Birthday BB – in one more sleep x