Dear Sloan,
Happy 8th birthday! We celebrated you this past weekend with your closest friends in our backyard and my cheeks still hurt from smiling so much. I watched you navigate the party with such ease, gracefully accepting all the love coming your way with such a refined sensibility. You were incredibly present, carefree, and happy and I was told by nearly every mom that you’re one of the sweetest kids in class.
This last year you’ve become a lot more independent, often choosing to write stories at your desk instead of sprinting into our room before sunrise. You still like cuddles before bed, holding my hand on our way to school, matching with me and dancing in public whenever one of our songs comes on. Oh and Tim, your beloved stuffed frog. He’s still a biiiig part of our lives. It’s funny to live in this sort of in-between place, fiercely soaking up all these little moments that I know I’ll grieve once they’re gone. And yet watching you grow into such a confident, creative, and caring person is one of my greatest joys, even if I’m met with plenty of “Don’t Come In” signs affixed to your bedroom door along the way.
You’ve learned that you can do things that scare you, like joining a basketball team as the only girl (and one of a few in the league). During your first game, you ran off the court to where I was seated, crying so hard you could barely catch your breath. But you didn’t quit, instead composing yourself on the bench until you went back in with your head held high. When you scored in a game, the entire row of parents erupted in applause (and me in tears, obviously) after seeing how far you’d come. This past summer, you leapt off a boat into the sea, surprising even yourself at what you’re able to accomplish when you decide you’re ready. And that’s where my job comes in – not to push or prod, but to encourage and support who you already are because your instincts and moral compass are always aligned.
I love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars. x
