I am not sure how this happened, but somewhere over the weekend, Kooka turned eight. Eight you hear? EIGHT!!
Not sure what I expected, but certainly not this. In the past year, she has started writing cursive, lost her top two teeth, started devouring 200 page books, baking on her own, and driving. OK - I made the last part up, but still . . .
To celebrate, she invited a few friends over for a Spa and Sleepover party. There were healthy appetizers, yoga stretches, partner massages, manicures, makeovers, chocolate fondue, a chick flick, and so much giggling that I did occasionally have to be that mom, and tell them to pipe down.
We celebrated her real birthday as a family the next day. It was a bit more subdued. A short nap, a special lunch out with her dad. Her dream dinner (steak, mashed potatoes, mac&cheese, and raspberry cheesecake), followed by presents before bed (a pixos kit from punk, calligraphy pens and a science kit from Rico and I, and a gift certificate to go to the mall). She was a pretty happy girl.
But right before bed, when I interviewed her about being 7 - she admitted, that her saddest moments as a 7 year-old, were realizing that she would be 8 - because she really does not want to grow up. However, she did reach the conclusion that she "must have a pretty good life, if I want it to stay like this forever."