She was born a little warrior, a little worrier, with fight in her, courage, and fears to overcome.
Armed with a whole lotta humour, a mind full of questions, and quite a few tears.

Our daughter turned seven last week. She is now nearly grown up. She woke up taller, decidedly taller, and nearer to ten than she was the day before.

She will be a video game designer. A paleoanthropologist. But she is never going away to university and will live in this house, with mummy and daddy, forever.

She started off early, pulling out her feeding tube her first rebel act. She spoke her own language
::bambaboofba conteetla ganggangga::
waited with walking and sped round on her knees, proud as a bee.

Like the little duck Ruby , sure enough, she walked and talked in her own time. In her own way.

Tears at nursery though, and big school. Tears before parties, tears at not knowing. Saying bye to home is hard. But on and on she goes, and in time even dances her own hula in front of kids and parents, and me…

And now she is seven.



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