Eight

My youngest child is eight years old and I have no idea how that happened. 

Wasn't it just yesterday that she was an overly precocious three year old asking for a cadaver for Christmas? Ah, those were the days!

Eight is a funny age... and age where the child seems to be straddling being a little kid and a not-quite-tween. Alia has always acted well beyond her years, but I see so much child still left in her, which I adore. 

We had quite an adventurous day celebrating Eight. Cupcakes for post-sleepover breakfast followed by Kung Fu Panda 3 (successfully this time) and Kidcity Museum with friends. After a quick trip home, we were supposed to pick up gluten-free pizza and head to Tuesday Night Sunday School, but the church lost power, so TNSS was cancelled. Pizza already ordered, we added another pizza to the order for the teen boys and called it a birthday dinner.

Today I'm thankful for older children who are mature enough to be bummed about not being invited along to the movies without being distraught over having to wait to see KFP3; for friends who made our day so much better in so many ways; for a newly minted eight year old who is still as scary and as unique as she's ever been; and for a messy house that attests to the amount of fun we've had over the past couple days.