I swear this photo was taken yesterday, but no. It was taken 7 years and 49 weeks ago, when Alexis was just 3 weeks old.
::blink::
Now she's 8 years old.
She started this day exactly the same as she has started so many days -- with her fingers wound tightly through my hair as she took up half of the bed. While she was good about sleeping in her crib when she was a newborn, that was a special kind of wonderful that evaporated some months later.
She still tries to crawl into bed with me almost every night. Still.
(She will stop before she heads off to college, right? Because if not, I guess she will have to give up on that dream of going to college in France. I can't move just so she can continue to play with my hair, after all.)
I stayed in bed longer than I should have this morning. That silent moment while Alexis breathed softly in her sleep needed to be memorized. The feel of her fingers wound tightly in my hair, the cadence of her soft exhales, all of it. This morning was the last morning she'll ever wake up as a newly minted 8-year old.
Happy birthday, Alexis. Let's make 8 the best year ever.