eight

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."