As we sorted and folded laundry, Ava and I discussed plans for our next dinner date to Panera. As we chatted, she picked up a picture of her with Andrea and confided in me that she really missed the days back when she was six. (She's seven as of last September.)
She told me she cried when she turned seven. I didn't know she felt so strongly about growing older! What kind of mother misses something so monumental?! So, I asked her what she missed the most about being six years old.
"Well..." She stammered nervously.
My anticipation of some very nostalgic memory being unleashed was mounting.
"Six is an even number, and I like even numbers."
I love my girl to an even million pieces.
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