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Dear Holly: A Father’s Letter to His Daughter on Her 7th Birthday

7 years old today!

Dear Holly,

Thinking back to seven years ago on the day you were born and how I imagined you would be as a little girl, I would say my predictions were spot on.

You are so joyful, so adventurous, and so sweet.

After all, your middle name is Joy, and you have definitely lived up to that name!

I am actively reminding myself now that my youngest child is 7 years old, this is basically the last call for certain things a kid will do in my house.

Like last week when you turned a shipping box in to a car, using your imagination.

I cherish every moment I have with you. I celebrate your childhood. I don’t take having a beautiful young daughter for granted.

Hapy 7th Birthday!

I love you so much!

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: The Power Sander You Invented for Rebuilding Hot Wheels

12 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

Last Friday night, Mommy went to Nashville with her friend Cheryl to see Lady A in concert. That meant that it was just you, me, and your sister.

After dinner, while I was getting your sister ready for bed, I didn’t see you or hear you around anywhere. I just assummed you where outisde in the cul-de-sac playing with the neighbors.

At 7:55 PM, I opened up the door leading to the garage and found you working on your cars:

Disassembling them to rebuild them.

“Look, Daddy, I built a power sander!” You showed me how you took a pencil and attached it to your power drill, using the eraser side to sand the new paint job you gave your Hot Wheels.

In the course of me writing my Enneagram book this year, I finally came to the realization you are truly an Enneagram 5 with a 4 wing:

The wacky inventor! 

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Holly: The Car You Created from a Box

6 years, 11 months.

Dear Holly,

This past week we ordered an indoor grill. It made me realize, “I still have a child who is young enough to appreciate playing with a box.”

Without ever making an announcement nor asking anyone’s permission, you took it upon yourself to turn that shipping box into a car. I noticed it had three pedals on the floor, implying it’s a manual transmission like my Jeep.

You also proudly brought to my attention that on the inside of the car door, you drew a stethoscope; which I suppose was intended to be a more grandiose first aid kit than the one in my Jeep I keep with me.

It was a very relevant choice for you to build your car from the box.

Even now as I type this, you are sitting down in your box playing, while Mommy drinks her coffee on Sunday afternoon after church.

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: You Lost 3 Teeth in the Past Week?

12 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

Last Thursday you came home, proudly announcing, “I lost a tooth today at school. I stored it in my mouth for the rest of the day.”

You then reached into your mouth and pulled the molar tooth out of its socket.

Then over the weekend on Saturday night, while we were at Nonna and Papa’s house in Alabama, you told everyone you thought you might be losing another tooth.

Within 30 minutes, you pulled it out. Apparently, the Tooth Fairy pays $20 for molars?…

And once we got home on Sunday night, just 24 hours later, you effortlessly pulled out a 3rd tooth.

I then mumbled under my breath: “This probably means puberty is on its way…”

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Holly: The Wheelchair from the Estate Sale

6 years, 11 months.

Dear Holly,

Your cousin Darla has an entire toy room at her house, which would otherwise be the official dining room.

While the two of you can easily play for hours with just the dolls alone, I was somewhat surprised to learn that an actual wheelchair is now included in the roster of toys.

You and your cousin take turns playing “hosptial”, based on who pretends to have a hurt leg and therefore has to be pushed down the hall.

Granted, your brother also tried out the wheelchair as well; which involved him rolling himself down the hill in the backyard and rolling over on his face.

Fortunately, this was not an ironic case of him actually needing the wheelchair due to his injuries.

 

Love,

Daddy