For the most part, Traci and I started having kids the same time as the rest of our friends. So, that means our kids have reached milestones at about the time--off to nursery, off to preschool, off to kindergarten. Each of these landmarks have been important for sure, but also incremental and manageable. (Well, off to kindergarten was pretty scary for mom and dad.) Age eight--the one where they get baptized and start making that transition from little kid to big kid--always seemed so far away.
But now it's here.
We are the parents of an eight year old.
Paige is ready to be eight. Actually, I think she'd feel just fine being 13, the way she bosses us around and makes it clear that she knows everything. She's incredibly smart, often very sweet, and more often very stubborn. And we love her.
Age eight seems like a good time to look back at how she's grown (and to wonder where the time has gone).
After a pretty scary emergency C-section, this little baby came out perfect.
At age 1, Paige kind of had the shape of a bowling bowl. (And the hair of Beavis and Butt-head--completely missing on the sides.)
By age two, Paige had inherited her mother's curly hair, which she twirled in her fingers incessantly.
By the time she was three, Paige had become a big sister. (She liked Curtis a lot more then than she does now.)
By age four, to her mother's chagrin, the curls started to disappear.
The five-year-old princess spent her birthday at Disneyland.
When she was six, Paige had to share the house (and the spotlight) with Curtis and Tate.
Age seven was when the teeth started falling out.
And here we are today. We're pretty lucky to have her.