My little girl is getting all growned up.

My daughter is about to turn eight years old. Wow. Eight years already. Does that mean I can no longer call my extra weight "pregnancy weight?"

She is a lovely, passionate and smart little girl. She is incredibly responsible. I think she could babysit her older brother. I love how she always turns off the lights when she leaves her room. Even if she's just running to the bathroom and is coming right back. She turns them off every time.

She is very articulate. Whenever she is upset she always writes me notes and drops them down from upstairs. Last year in early summer we went swimming on a rather cloudy day. I didn't put sunscreen on her as much as I should have and her shoulders got a little pink. When we got home she went up to her room and wrote me a note. "Dear Mom, I'm mad at you. You should have known that the sun can travel through the clouds."

She also loves to write our whole family love notes. I have boxes and boxes of sweet notes from her. They are one of my most prized possession.