It’s hard to believe that Isabella has been alive for seven years. I still so vividly remember the day she was born, the day she smiled for the first time, the day she pulled up and took her first steps, the day she put a shrimp in her mouth and sucked on it for half an hour, toothless as she was. How could that be the same child who can read and write and says things like, “It is not OK for you to treat me this way” when I raise my voice?
She can do so many things for us now–get Riona dressed in her pajamas, fill everyone’s water cup, empty the trashes and recycle bins, clean up her room, dust the shelves, put away the lower dishes. And so many things for herself–ride a two-wheeler, roller skate, in-line skate, ice skate, read the Magic Treehouse books, write letters to and about her boyfriends, read the instructions to and complete her homework… it’s almost too much to take in! Is she still a little girl? Am I still allowed to refer to her as a little girl? I think by the time she’s eight she might be as tall as me!
She decided on an all-girl tea party for her seventh birthday celebration, and when I told her that it would be three hours long, twice the length of most of the parties she attends, she replied, “Three hours is not long enough for me.” And after three hours of tea, sandwiches, cake, eight games, two crafts, and nine screaming girls, she put on a pouty face when it was over and asked, “What now?” Limitless energy! She is the last to go to sleep and the first to awaken.
Isabella, my oldest daughter, still relishes in being the center of attention, just like when she was the baby and was not only the first child, but the first grandchild. She will always be a social butterfly, always fight for her rights, and always know just how to manipulate every situation to her liking. Gee, I wonder where she gets it?? 
As sad as I was when she began first grade this year, I have come to accept this new age. Seven. Wow. Soon I will have a tween, a teen, a college student, a bride. And I know I will enjoy all of her ages, as screaming and wild as they may be. Happy birthday, little (big) girl!
