7. No, really...SEVEN.

Today, The Munch turns 7. Did you get that? Here, allow me to spell it out for you: S-E-V-E-N. I'm sitting here typing this, and I'm pretty sure i'm having some sort of cardiac arrest. There is no freakin' way my baby can be seven. THIS is Clairey:

Not this:

THIS:

THIS, not so much:

Seriously, what the crap happened? When did THIS happen? And so, the letter begins:

Munch/Little Bit/Presh,
WHEN did you grow up? When did i close my eyes for so long, that you went from a tiny little baby, to a...well...a tiny little 7-year old? I really feel like I set you in your crib yesterday, and today, I woke you with kisses on your 7th birthday. Jenna didn't turn seven this fast. You must be really advanced. You fast-grower-upper you.

Have I told you how amazing you are? How I tell everyone in the world how I want to eat your sweet little face? Yes, they all look at me like i'm weird, but hello, if they had the opportunity, they'd want to snack on you, too. There's something about those freckles, those deep hazel eyes, and those shiny little teeth that are just so snackable. But those things aren't what make you so amazing...

You have the uncanny ability to draw people to you like moths to a flame. People adore you, Clairey. You have this beautiful gift of infectious happiness, that just spreads and sweeps over the masses. Your face, your smile, your charm are all overpowering. You are a gift.

You are so outgoing, and such a character. Your sarcasm is developed well beyond your years--you never fail to amuse me. I could seriously charge people to just listen to you talk--you're freakin' hilarious. And your dance moves--oh my gosh--brilliant. You love to put on "shows" and dance and sing--either with your sister, or without. You did your first theatre production this year. You had to audition with a 1-minute monologue and a song of your choice. You chose your own monologue, a chapter from a "Junie B. Jones" novel; and wanted to sing Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal" as your song. I had to draw the line there. Although, it WAS beyond hilarious... You ended up going with "Popular" from the musical, "Wicked." Good choice. Everyone loved you. The owner of the theatre dubbed you "Shirley Temple." That won't be your last production at that theatre, I'm sure of it.

You're still in gymnastics, and doing brilliantly. On the way to gym on Thursday, you told me, "Mommy, I love Jesus and gymnastics." :) Sweet baby. And you said that you've been praying to move to the next level. I hope Jesus answers your prayers--you deserve it.

Clairey, there's nothing else to say--I just simply adore you. Every time I think I couldn't possibly love you more, my heart opens that much more, and I do. I still sneak into your room at night, brush your crazy hair out of your face, and cover your cheeks in kisses. I still put your sleepy little hands in mine, and kiss your palms. You will never in your life, be able to understand how very much I love you. My heart is so full of love for you, and it will never run out. You will always be my baby, my munch, my little bit, my presh.

Happy Birthday to my precious girl,
Mommy xoxox