Okay, so I lied.
Maybe I won’t go into detail regarding Hannah’s birthday celebration, mainly because I have missed the moment and my Adult ADD demands that I move on.
However, I can report that she was a very happy birthday kid all day, starting at 4:20 AM when she woke up in search of birthday hoopla. She was thrilled with her presents, despite the fact that a laptop computer did not appear in her pile o’ gifts. She waxed wistful as the sun set on her big day.
“Mom, it’s kind of sad when it’s over. It’s funny,” she said, “but eight doesn’t really feel different than seven.”
She’s right, of course. On a birthday, one should wake up feeling older, wholly different, more knowledgeable, taller. She expected a *poof!* moment, and was genuinely surprised when there wasn’t one. I considered, but ultimately decided against telling her that the *poof!* thing will happen, albeit with slightly less enthusiastic adjectives, when she turns forty.
Instead, I let her have her favorite moment, wrapped in a one-inch square white box, tied with rainbow colored curly ribbon. Inside, she found a pair of tiny blue and purple butterfly earrings. Which confused her.
They were real earrings.
For pierced ears.
All at once, after thinking these treasures must really be for her sister, she got it. Her eyes brightened, her jaw dropped, and she — screeeeeeamed. I mean, we’re talking glass-shattering, sound-barrier breaking, 911-worthy, blood-curdling shrieks.
I’m certain that my hearing is permanently compromised.
Hannah can’t wait to get holes punched in her ear lobes. Her dad offered to do it then and there with her fork, but she opted to wait until the lady at the jewelry store is available. More bling, less frosting.
I can’t believe she’s eight. She does homework. Whines about bad hair days. Paints her nails red. What happened to my six and a half pound baby? Really, I was JUST holding her. Wrapping her in a blanket. Smelling her sweet little head.