the day my baby turned seven.

It’s so clichéd isn’t it? Feeling like it wasn’t two minutes since your child was born.

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But for this little bear it’s been seven years.  Seven years! I’ve always had a thing for trying to pull the brakes on this one growing up.  I referred to her as ‘my newborn’ until a friend gently reminded me that an 8 month-old doesn’t quite fit within the realms of the the newborn stage.

Compared to her older sisters’ 30 hour journey into the world, Boo arrived at top speed. A little over 5 hours and she was in my arms and she’s not stopped for breath since.  This kid is dynamic and inquisitive with more ideas in her little mind than there are moments to process them.  I could squidge her all day long and she has Mr C well and truly wrapped around her little finger who obliges in carrying her up to bed every night.

Yesterday started a little earlier than normal with the elated squeals of a newly appointed member of the 7-year old brigade waking everyone up.

photo (25)Don’t be alarmed at her lack of PJs, Boo sheds clothes like a true naturist.  If you turned up at our house at any given time you’d likely find her wandering around in just her pants.  I’m hoping it’s just a phase…

At Lightwater Valley we had a day of compromise.  We went on fast rides that made all of us bar the birthday girl feel really sick, interspersed with more sedate ways to spend our time.  Swan boats and carousels are just the things to settle your stomach after pirate ships and spinning barrels.

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photo (19)There was a 2 minute monkey-bar challenge and I could see Mr C eyeing it up as we walked past.  I scoffed at the idea and said people might laugh when he couldn’t do it.  Yes, I was that bad a wife, the scepticism was oozing out of me.  And this of course made Mr C more determined to give it a shot.  As we waited for his turn we watch two really burly guys try and fail, the first falling after 45 seconds and a really huge tattooed fella managing to hold on until 1 minute 20 before his arms gave way.  People had gathered around and I cringed as I stepped forward to quietly cheer him on.

photo%201I chuckled to myself at the wet patch on his bum. It wasn’t an accident due to over-exertion, we’d just been on the water rapids.  Still looked funny though.  He still hanging on at 1 minute 30 and the crowd were commenting on how cool and collected he seemed.  Although he didn’t make it to 2 minutes, I was well and truly eating my cynical words.  The little bears were screaming encouragement and everyone watching let out an audible sigh as he dropped to the floor at 1.39.  The longest anyone had lasted since we’d been there watching.

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He didn’t walk away with a giant minion but was given a rucksack for his impressive efforts.  I need to have more faith in my husband.  I ate humble pie and it didn’t taste good.  Lesson learnt.

Before long we were heading back to get to the summer party on our village green.  I was very grateful that our British changeable weather was swinging in our favour and we enjoyed a dry evening of drinking wine, eating burgers and watching the kids slide down the Jack ‘n’ Jill slide.  Later, in the haze of her sleepy contentment she told me that her best present was to have such a great family.  It was either the sweetest thing she ever said or she’s after something. Something big. Either way, I’m keeping a hold of it to cherish.  Perfect end to a perfect day.

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Oh! The cake.  I nearly forgot about the cake.  It didn’t resemble the leaning tower of Pisa, and Boo was over the moon with it so all in all it was a success. It brought no threat to Mary Berry’s position of queen of the bakes but I was bloomin’ well pleased with it all the same.

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