As promised, here's my kidlet's annual photo session results.
Now, photographing my child in this way is, by and large, work. For her, I mean. Not only do I allow myself to sass my own child unlike I'd ever do to someone else's (am I the only one?), but the kid's been having a camera pointed at her for years.
So, like any deserving child after a doctor's appointment or please-behave-while-mommy-shops-for-a-swimsuit, it's lollipop time. Obviously, we colour co-ordinate the sugary treat to the outfit. Obviously.
You've been seven for just over a month. And I'm not sure what happened but, overnight, you're big.
I knew I started losing my baby when the dimples on your hands gave way to delicate little knuckles. And the sound of Rs being pronounced as Ws has long since left us.
But unlike the grown up fingers and speech, something has now happened that I can't describe. You're seven. No one warned me (or maybe I had my fingers in my ears, singing la-la-la ♪♫♪) that this would be the beginning of something so different.
Guess what though? I'm here for you. No matter what. Even though you're not a baby anymore, one thing is certain. You'll always be my baby.
Love you so,