Lucky 7

Dear Brooklyn,

7 years ago today, you were born.  You had tiny little finger nails, and perfect little ears, and a surprisingly inquisitive nature for one so very brand new. 

I held your teeny hand and watched you dream.

We were smitten, and bewildered, and enchanted.  

You have made being a parent such a pleasure.  You are happy and wise and obedient and thoughtful.  You are brimming with integrity and you have such simple, unwavering faith.  You are contemplative and inquisitive.  You are helpful and hilarious and your expansive library of animal facts constantly astounds me.

You sometimes laugh at inappropriate moments and you have a recent habit of talking at a "volume 10" at all times.  You love rocking out to "Party in the USA" and all things Taylor.  Your soccer team has yet to score a goal this season (9 weeks in), and you could almost not care less.  Which makes me simultaneously frustrated and also so, so proud.  

You have a recent interest in shopping with me (woohoo!), and you ask me once a week how many more years until you are old enough to go to BYU and open your Dinosaur Cafe.  You are annoyed when the answer is always the same and you declare without fail that "you shouldn't have to be 17 to go to college."

You are something special. 

And I still live to hold your hand and watch you dream.

Happy Birthday, Brooklyn Nicole.

We love you.