... She's Eight!
Cayna turned eight today. There was a little fanfare, not too much, but plenty of feeling special.
My morning rosary for her. Prayed in bed with her sitting next to me, then snuggling and remembering newborn her with her rosy skin and how she tried to suck on her whole hand.
Good friends in a toy shoppe playing in 3,000 pounds of recycled milk carton product. A tree at the back of the store sang "Happy Birthday" to her, called her by name, and knew her age.
Spent too much at said toy store, on a toy that she will outgrow soon, but it's noteable that she's not an OLD age eight. And I'm just fine if she wants to play with "young" toys rather than Justin Bieber stuff for a while longer.
Went to a park. She wrote "I Turned 8" on the ground with sidewalk chalk. And used her characteristic 97 colors to do it. She also went barefoot, her favorite way to be; played in the sand; climbed on the jungle gym; ran along the snake wall; and proclaimed that she is not afraid of dogs. Her choice of movie to watch on the DVD player on the drive across town was "Pocahontas." She is enamored by all things Native American and has coerced her Daddy into constructing a teepee for her birthday.
Chose IHOP for dinner and sweetly asked that someone sing for her. The whopping two servers on duty in the near-empty restaurant rallied with the hostess and presented her with a scoop of ice cream and a little song with enthusiastic applause. They were so sweet to her.
Dragged BaBa through WalMart, then Toys R Us and ended up going back to WalMart for the bike she's been searching for high and low. It's a 20-incher. Blue, pink, sparkly, fenders, etc. All I care about is that she'll feel LOTS of wind blowing through her hair in the coming years and if she falls down, she'll get back up. That about sums it up.