Eleven years. Eleven years, eleven years, eleven years... You're eleven years old today. As I think back on the day you were born, I'm amazed at how far we've come, baby.
I remember holding you for the first time and then absolutely panicking. I was someone's mama. I was the boss and the diaper changer and and feeder and nurse and.and.and.... And I was in love. Deeply, unabashedly. With you. I was scared out of my wits.
You've been so patient with me. You've gotten the brunt of my mistakes and have been my "guinea pig". You've been so gracious and forgiving.
You have been with me the longest out of all five of you cheeky monkeys. My love for you has grown and grown and grown as I see the young woman God is molding you to be. It's His doing, very little of mine.
You have always been my sweet girl and I don't know how I could be any more proud of you. Keep growing, my girl, learning, reaching, loving, experiencing life to it's fullest. Always keep your God-seeking heart seeking after the treasures that won't rust, decay or get moth-eaten. Remember to hold your head high while loving those around you well, for you are a child of the King.
I love you, Mag-Pie, Magsie, Geegs, Magdalena, Mug-Gee.
(Have I thoroughly embarrassed you? Yes? Good.)