Hattie came to me the morning of her birthday and told me a bit remiss, “I standed on the top of the steps with my arms out to see if I was bigger, but I’m kind of like I was six, not really bigger.”
We had a great conversation about how birthdays are funny like that—how you think you might feel different, but it actually is the same person from yesterday. But change happens slowly, and even though she can’t see it, she definitely is bigger.
This was the most exciting birthday, because it was her GOLDEN birthday. SEVEN!
In looking back at pictures from the last two months, trying to find a good one for the top of this post, I couldn’t find one where she wasn’t holding Abel. She always has him in her arms. And it makes sense, because Hattie has always loved babies more than anything else in the world. She just loves holding and rocking and caring for a baby. Dolls are great, the real ones are best.
Or a mix of both…
Hattie at age seven always wants her hair done nicely and is still patiently waiting for it to grow long. She is a joyful dancer, and sings songs all day and all night, praise songs that she writes and sings until we all know them too. She runs the kitchen, unloading and loading the dishwasher is her job, and she has recently added apple oatmeal to the list of meals she can prepare for the family.
Her name is Hattie Joy and when she signs her artwork, she writes JOY. That’s her artist name, she tells me. And even though she doesn’t feel any bigger, as her mama, I can testify—she is growing bigger, growing greater and more wonderful and more joyful each new day.