This Friday, my girls turn seven.
Since they turned four, I’ve been saying that each age is my favorite age, and this age is no different. I’ve always wanted to write funny, clever and heartfelt essays about my darling girls, but I seem to have trouble writing about my girls in any interesting way– something about watching them develop as personalities, like photographs in a darkroom, leaves me completely inarticulate. Today I thought I’d try some quick snapshots though, just so I won’t feel too neglectful. Expect more details about the birthday festivities as the week unfurls.
At seven, Lucy is meticulous and conscientious, loves art and music, is still the pickiest eater I’ve ever known. She tolerates no ambiguities, is truly a tough cookie, but has a wonderfully endearing way of rubbing her head against you like a cat who wants a cuddle but won’t beg for it. Her precision and sense of color in her artwork is distinctive– I always know which painting is hers in a room full of children’s work. If she loves you, you know it– when you enter a room, her sense will alert her, and she will barrel towards you, launching into an embrace that has literally knocked me off my feet.
At seven, Sophie is dramatic, hilarious, brash but tender-hearted. She plunges forward bravely, then falls back with welling tears, then plunges forward again. Her quicksilver curiosity keeps me guessing, and her powers of perception often stop me in my tracks. She has the same aptitude for delicious silliness that her father has, and watching the two of them bounce off each other is a delight. She has an incredible ear for music but is most often dancing to her own tune.
What surprises me the most is how much of this was evident in their babyhood, but still manages to jump out at me from time to time like light from a hidden mirror. What frightens me the most is that the more they grow and unstretch their hidden selves, the weaker my powers of protection become, and the more I have to trust that I’m doing a good job at this mothering thing after all.
Seven! I think seven is a huge milestone. To me, it is the true end-of-babyhood-beginning-of-childhood moment. At seven, they are who they are and who they will be. The absorbent mind develops filters and stops indiscriminately becoming everything it is exposed to. Neural pathways become so much harder to form and change. I had a little minute’s ceremony on the morning of my eldest’s seventh birthday. We thanked her for her babyhood and she stepped over a ribbon and was given a stuffed dragon named Magic in the hopes that her childhood would still be full of it. Big day! Happy Birthday to your growing girls!
Seven is lucky, indeed. And lucky for you, to get to experience it twice over!
LSM, now I’m even more frightened
. It’s funny, because for me growing up, seven was a big number because it’s when Catholic kids usually make their first communion, which I guess fits with our end-of-babyhood theory, because you’re moving beyond baptism to truly becoming part of the church. I don’t practice Catholicism anymore, but the ceremonial aspect still lingers. I may post more about that later, actually!
Anjali, I try to think about it that way, but sometimes I feel like I should be treasuring each and every moment at every age and milestone, since they won’t come again for us, but that can get tiring!
I am also a used-to-be Catholic and I think there is a true reason for that age in the Church – it really is the Age of Reason in so many ways.
Happy Birthday to your lovely girls! They sound wonderful.
Thanks, landismom! They really are pretty wonderful, even when they are also kind of aggravating!
Happy Birthday! Seven was lovely at our house, a little Dramatic but lovely, and I think you have great things ahead of you this year.
I’m hoping so– Six was a great year!
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