I’ve had lots of moments as your mother that were filled with happiness, delight, total joy. And you’ve said and done many things in your eight years of life that I will never forget. This weekend you may have topped them all.
You have wanted a pet for quite a while. Any pet, really. A hermit crab. A lizard. A fish. In your mind to wish for a dog or a cat must’ve just been dreaming the impossible dream. You have told me many times you would love to have a cat. When we visit your grandparents, you are the chief cat feeder and petter. So, Daddy and I decided that you should finally have your long-wished-for, often-dreamed-of pet.
I picked out two kittens, one for you and one for Sawyer. They are six weeks old, small and playful and sweet. I could hardly wait to surprise you.
Your eighth birthday party arrived, and I wrapped a dish, a collar, and some cat treats and saved them as your final gifts. You opened the bag, and your friends excitedly talked about what was inside. A dish? A cat collar? Cat treats? Do you have a cat? they asked. You sat in stunned silence for a moment before throwing your head back and happily howling, “I’m getting a cat for my birthday!” And then the happy tears started. And you laughed and cried and asked, “How is this possible?” Your friends were smiling happily, probably a little bewildered by your reaction, while all of the adults in the room dabbed at their own happy tears, watching you in your utter joy.
You are a beautiful person.
Even now I can hardly think of that moment without tearing up. Because you are so sweet. Because you are easy to please. Because you are mine.
I love you, my girl. You bring happiness to my life. And I love your little kitties because you love them so much.
Happy eighth birthday! I’ll remember this one forever.