Sara weighs 49 pounds and is 49 inches tall right now. That's a smallish 7-year-old, especially when you consider her hair accounts for at least a few pounds...but her personality is so BIG that people seldom notice...she is fearless, and she is one of the funniest people I've ever met. She has trash talk down to an art form, refers to her 35-year-old daddy as "my old man" and has a flair for the ridiculous. Last year her list to Santa included 3 items: a million dollars, her own planet, and new socks. A few months ago, she came to me and asked, "Hey, Mom, can we lose these training wheels already?" After we took them off, she refused all offers of assistance, and simply took off down the street alongside her sister. That's Classic Sara.
She never really seems small to me. But I have to say, right now, as I'm listening to her having to work to breathe in her sleep, she seems pretty tiny...in spite of the fact that she is taking up 85% of my queen-sized mattress, and she seems to be most comfortable draped across me like a blanket, with her head smashing my left boob and her arm flung across my face. I'll take that gladly, as long as she gets some rest and I get some peace of mind...but what I would REALLY love is some rain that might actually bring her some relief from this little asthma/allergy hell. Don't get me wrong, she doesn't complain much. She's a trouper, but me? Not so much...
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