Lucky number 7

There will only be one day in my life where I am woken up by my daughter saying this: “I’M SEVEN!!!”
Ah, the vault-you-out-of-bed power of your seventh birthday. Better than coffee.
Allie embraced her day and was quick to remind everyone that it was HER birthday:
– “Daddy, it’s my birthday, so I want cake for breakfast.”
– “Mommy, it’s my birthday, so I’ll wear what I want and you can’t say it doesn’t match.”
– “Parker, it’s my birthday, so go draw on the walls and don’t tell anyone I told you to do it. And give the dog a haircut.”
We asked Allie what she wanted, party-wise, and she said that she wanted a family picnic. Yes, yes, cue the “Awws.” But I think this was thought out. Allie knows how big her family is. Remember – this is the child who has a photograph from when she was 20 minutes old with her six – SIX – grandparents lined up behind the proud parents and new baby. A family picnic can mean a good two or three dozen people. I think this was calculated, the little weasel.
Her seventh birthday was, of course, pause for reflection for my wife and me. For one thing, it was seven years ago to this day, I said the dumbest thing I have ever said: “I have GOT to get some sleep.” You see, it was that day, Aug. 8, 2000, that we brought home Allie from the hospital. And guess what – Mommy was a little tired. And Mommy made it pretty clear that the previous couple of nights, when I was at home in my bed, NOT being woken up by nurses every few hours to be poked and prodded and have a little wiggly creature thrown in my lap, I could have banked a few hours of shuteye.
But before we knew it, we were in a routine. And the sleepless nights are distant memories at this point. Rather, I reflect on some fond memories of the past seven years:
1. Convincing my daughter that we were not going to be eaten by sharks. We were in the Florida Keys, and for some reason my wife let me take my daughter parasailing. “Are there sharks down there, Daddy?” “God I hope not,” I replied confidently.
2. Seeing my daughter enjoy the effects of anesthesia. After roughly 43,000 ear infections, Allie had her adenoids removed. After they gave her something to relax her before the surgery, she laughed at how the nurses were twins. (There was only one nurse.) And Daddy? Three hands. (I am pretty sure I have only two.)
3. Seeing her first haircut. And the look on her mother’s face when she saw her first haircut. Oh, did I mention that I gave her the haircut?
4. Having the realization that children will mimic their parents, which is very flattering, until you realize how they will mimic without discrimination, including when Daddy is working on the pipe under the sink and bumps his head.
5. Seeing her reaction to her new baby brother, which was one of extreme joy and pride, rather than what it could have been, which was to test her skills at hiding things.
6. Realizing that she thinks Daddy can fix ANYTHING, as she hands me a Barbie doll with a missing leg and no hair.
7. Realizing that I can still do a sleight of hand with a different Barbie doll and make her think I can fix ANYTHING.
8. Having to relinquish any responsibilities I have for picking out my daughter’s clothes because, as she put it, “Daddy, I want to wear something pretty.” Well excuse me if a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt isn’t pretty. It’s all I know.
9. Realizing that, even though they may scrap on occasions, she loves her brother. I base this on the fact that whenever he hurts himself (which is far more often than Allie does), she tries to drown out his crying by singing at the top of her lungs, often making up such song lyrics as:
Parker, please stop crying
I wish he would stop
I don’t like it when cries
Mommy, Daddy do something
Stop crying. Stop crying.
If you don’t make him stop you have to get me a pony.
10. Knowing that, even though she – as she is quick to remind us – is already 7 years old, there is still a lot of little girl in her. Take, for example, the look on her face when she saw her new bike. That will forever be etched in my memory – the eyes wide open, the mouth agape, the sheer and utter shock at what she saw. Come to think of it, it’s the same look her mother gave when she saw Allie’s first haircut.