Dearest E,

Yes. A pink, ruffled, chocolate cake. Is there anything more appropriate for you? I doubt it.

Happy Birthday. You are 7. And I don't know where the time has gone. 

Last year I wrote you a ridiculously emotional letter. And I was ridiculously emotional. I sat at the computer with tears streaming down my cheeks, feeling like 5 to 6 was a huge transition and everything was changing and couldn't you stay 5 for just a little bit longer.

But 6 to 7 is different. So, too, will be my letter.

Things that are true of you, my birthday girl, on your first day of being 7: 

You are a voracious reader, a cat lover, a never-sitting-still ball of energy, a wealth of words. Many of them quite large.

You love cooking. You are still a bit of a drama queen. You can be hilariously sarcastic, with a dry sense of humor that is surprising for one not yet a decade old. 

Your eyes have changed color, from brilliant blue to the same pale, lucid green as your Dad. Your hair is getting darker. You have lost 2 teeth already and 2 more are nearly ready to go. But you are in no hurry. 

You have an amazing imagination. And a desire to know exactly what is happening, exactly when. 

You pay attention to everything. Especially when we hope you are not. You have an innate 6th sense for those moments. 

You can't wait to drive. You think weddings are wonderful. Most days the thing you want to be when you grow up is a mom. 

You appear to get taller everyday, looking right at home with a group of Third Graders on a recent field trip. Yet weight-wise and despite your enormous appetite you may never get out of your booster seat. 

You continually win at Go-Fish, you can sometimes beat me at Memory and you enjoy decimating Dad at the game Sorry. Really, you have no mercy for him. 

But board games aside you have a very tender heart. Like your Mom. You say goodbye to the house when we leave on vacation. You feel sad when Dad throws stuff away, like your deflated snow-tube. And you get teary during prayers.

You sleep with an ever-expanding pile of stuffed animals surrounding you in bed. And no fewer than 5 blankets. Which need to be put on in a certain order. In a certain way. And heaven help Dad when he questions this logic. (Me? I don't question it. Whatever gets you in bed before the clock strikes the magic hour and you turn into a pumpkin is fine by me...)

You are not a picky-eater. Dark chocolate, ginger and licorice are just some of the strong flavors you love. Curry, Cabbage and Asparagus, are some of the others. They only thing you consistently refuse to eat is Watermelon.

You love to be outside. You love to ride your bike. You love to walk over and visit with all of our neighbors. If I ever have a question about what is happening on Columbus Circle, chances are pretty good you know the answer.

You have the most amazing way of sitting on the floor. Never on your butt. Never on your knees. Rather, you squat like a frog. And can do so for an unearthly amount of time. We are pretty sure you are double jointed.

I can not say what changes and challenges the next year will bring. But I know you will continue to grow, you will continue to keep Dad and me ever on our toes and before I know it you will be 8.