7 years old.  It's a strange age.  They are old enough to know better, trust them with more things, let them branch out a bit further.  She can't wait to stay up a bit later.  She talks about the car that she will drive some day.  She has her own sense of style.  One day she's going to own a pet shelter.  Other days, she's going to move to LA and be on Food Network.

But.  She still crawls into my lap in the mornings, curling up like a small toddler.  She asks for help "inside outing" her last night's pajamas.  She needs me to check to make sure she got all the shampoo out of her hair.  She still says "brexfix" instead of "breakfast".

She's still so young.  And I love that while she has all these dreams about what it's going to be like when she can stay up past 8pm, she still needs me to help her with the little things.  The little things that make her feel loved and safe and secure.  Because the little things are really the big things in her world.

Welcome to the middle ground.

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