Sophie Is Seven: She Drew Me a Portrait

My baby girl turned seven today and I’m having all the feelings.

Sophie Is Seven: She Drew Me a Portrait

She spent the morning working on this portrait of me (apparently I have very large eyes and very small feet, which honestly isn’t wrong) and presented it to me like she was unveiling the Mona Lisa. The pride on her face when she handed it over made my heart explode.

I immediately hung it on the fridge next to her crayon masterpieces from last year. Marcus keeps saying it actually looks like me, which I’m choosing to take as a compliment even though cartoon-me appears to have spaghetti hair. Sophie’s artistic eye is really developing - she notices details now, pays attention to proportions, actually plans her drawings instead of just scribbling with wild abandon.

Seven feels like such a milestone. She’s losing teeth left and right, reading chapter books, developing opinions about everything from what we’re having for dinner to which dinosaur would win in a fight (she and Theo debate this daily). She’s becoming this whole person with thoughts and preferences and talents, and I’m just over here trying not to cry into my coffee because where did my baby go?

Happy birthday to my artist, my helper, my mini-me who somehow manages to be kinder than I ever was at seven. We’re celebrating with pizza and way too much cake, obviously. Theo’s already covered in frosting and it’s only 2 PM. We’re doing great.