This past Friday was your seventh (!) birthday, and your first ever sleepover. Well, first sleepover at our house, that is. You had three friends come over after school, and the four of you plus your big sister proceeded to spend the next 8 hours alternately: 1) presenting a true-to-the-movies recreation of the Harry Potter series (complete with arguements over who was going to be Hermione and who was going to be Voldemort). You, predictably enough, were Hedwig and you capered around flapping your arms and hooting; 2) eating your way through vast quantities of food - for five reasonably normal sized children of your age, you can put away a remarkable amount of cheese pizza. And carrot sticks. And broccoli. And Tangtastic Haribos. And chocolate cake...; 3) having drama-filled relationship meltdowns and makings-up over a time course that would make a soap opera star's head spin.
It was a lovely party, and I think everyone had a good time, except when I had to camp out in your room at 11:00 pm and tell two of you little gabbers to "Stop. Talking. Now." in a very serious tone of voice every 3.5 minutes until you actually shut up and went to sleep. The next day was punctuated by having a lovely time until everyone else went home and then stomping off upstairs in high dudgeon over...something? Your sister found you passed out on the guest bed a little while later, and mid-afternoon when you finally woke up, you were back to your usual sunny self.
It's been quite a year for you m'dear - you are in the oldest class at your school, and you have handled the increasing pressure of next school assessments with nary a blip. I think it helps that you only did one assessment, because your parents have chosen logistical ease over all else and are sending you off to the same school as Devil. I have discovered though this process that you have fewer inhibitions around strange adults when your parents are absent; the faculty member that interviewed you described you as "quite a character". Apparently that is a good thing (sometimes it's really hard to tell with the Brits...), and I'll be happily popping you on the bus alongside your sister next autumn.
You continue to attack the world with fearlessness and curiosity, as evidenced by your recent "mastery" of alpine skiing. I put mastery in quotes because, although you are now competent to ride up on a lift and schuss down ski slopes in a variety of colors, your concern with anything other then pure speed (i.e. turning, stopping, not killing anyone...) is perhaps a bit lacking. In one notable exception over half term, you decided to use the banks of snow on the edge of the trail to slow yourself down. Imagine your surprise when this tactic resulted in you jamming the tip of one of your skis into the bank, popping it loose and launching yourself over the side of the trail into the unknown. Thankfully, I skied over to find you lying on your back, laughing like a loon. Good thing you have rubber bones kiddo...hope they hold on long enough to get you to the Winter Olympics in 2030.
As always, it is a pleasure being you mother 95% of the time (Monday mornings could take a long walk off a short pier and never come back, but I think most people feel that way). I love you so very, very much, and I can't wait to see what adventures you get into next.