Avery,
Seven. It seems so old. Like now that my youngest is seven, we've moved into a new stage of parenting. Mostly, it's wonderful. Every year, I get to see more and more the person you are becoming.
I love watching you interact with other people. With adults, you are polite and engaging, and tend to have conversations a bit above your age range. People are frequently surprised when they find you are "only 6." You easily make friends and with older brothers and a variety of life experiences, you tend to be confident with most people and in most situations.
Last weekend, we were at Jack's baseball tournament, and I hadn't seen you in quite a while. I got up so I could put eyes on your and the lady in charge of the tournament saw me looking around near the playground area. She asked if I was looking for someone. I told her yes, but nobody I was concerned about. A few moments later, I saw you stand up from a picnic table full of 10-year-old baseball players (not your brother's team). You were shaking your arm and you told me you had just arm wrestled a bunch of boys. Your friend (who you met only hours before), came up and said, "You did a really good job!!" You didn't say much else about it until I asked you later and your casually mentioned that you had beat a few of them. I told you having older brothers would eventually pay off.
I hope you are always proud of your strength and have a desire to excel at whatever fuels your passion. You are talented and smart and beautiful, and I hope the world never tells you different. But if it does, I hope your confidence in yourself is stronger than their lies.
Daughter of mine, you take up a great deal of my attention, and 86% of the time that is lovely. I once challenged you to predict how many times you said mom in one hour. That was too lofty, and I'm not sure kindergarten prepared you for such high counting. I started saying "Avery" every time you said "mom", and you were not amused. You certainly are a test of a mother's patience, but I remind myself that being wanted so fiercely will be a phase not likely for future years. And on the flip side, you love equally as fierce. Oftentimes, you make giving affection a sport and when you maul me and tell me how much you love me, the feeling is hard to describe. Its untethered love, fervent, given without abandon, and for no reason. It given because I am who I am, not because of anything I have done. A child's love seems to get the closest to God's love for us, and you are a daily reminder of that.
Avery, you are not perfect, but you are perfect for our family, and I hope you know how loved you are. I hope your seventh year is your best yet.
Love,
Mom
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