7 years, 7 months and (just over) 7 days

Dear Devil,

Well, well, well...here we are. Your seventh birthday was in March, and here it is November and no birthday letter? Mother-blogger fail in a major way. Let's see if I can fill everyone in on what's been happening with you.

And boy, has a lot been happening with you. In your seventh year you weathered a number of challenges with ever increasing aplomb. You dealt with a serious increase in academic demands while your Year 2 teacher tried to get your class ready to move on to primary school. You overcame your fear of the unknown in stellar fashion, and discovered that sometimes taking a scary step into the unknown can work out really well.

You built on that new confidence by happily jaunting off to a very strange foreign country, and tried all sorts of bizarre and strange things - riding on an elephant, eating some very different food, and spending a lot of time in a car not going anywhere very quickly - and were enthusiastic about most of it.

Then came September, and a brand new school. I was sure that on the first day, I was going to take you to the bus stop to go off on your own, and that I would have to do some serious damage control to get you onto the bus by yourself to go off to the unknown. Boy did you surprise me! The bus pulled up, you gave me a kiss goodbye, and happily hopped on and sat down. Off you went. Your transition to a school approximately five times the size of the one you left has been amazingly smooth. You've made friends, you've settled in to your new class and your new schedule, you've even taken up new pursuits (stay tuned for many maternal complaints on violin practice in the Twitter feed).

To be fair, we still have our struggles - you have a pretty short fuse when you're tired. Or hungry. Or upset about something. This usually manifests as yelling either at me or your sister. I think I'm finally figuring out strategies for minimizing the tantrums that inevitably erupt. Surprisingly, the toughest times are when something has happened at school to upset you, and if I give you a chance to tell me about it and get it off your chest, that seems to make things much better. I just need to remember to give you the chance, and I'm working on it baby.

I am daily filled with awe and inspiration at the person you are and the person you are becoming. I love you baby.

Mummy (although sometimes it's Mum, and there is some serious adolescence-foreshadowing going on these days....oy)