Eleven.

It seems like yesterday you were asking me which bow looked prettiest in your hair. Nowadays you model your sunglasses instead. Before I know it, you'll be telling me to pick which seat covers I like best for your new car, and then which drinks are the best for your first legal night out.

I know where the time has gone. I just don't know how it got wings to get there so fast.
..how YOU got wings.

Everyone always falls in love with you. Your smile, your charm, your honesty, your youth. But what they don't realize is that it's just a taste of what I've been intoxicated on my entire life.

You're amazing. Always have been. And for being the one of us three that looks the most different, you're the most grounded - the best of us.

You ask me to help you make your cupcakes and I sniffle and wipe frosting on my face because I'm helping you, and not doing it for you while you watch from your perch on the counter. You can REACH now. And you just need me to watch while you use the stove because your parents are just like that, and I can't say I blame them after Courtney blew up the microwave..

You look so cute with your oven mitts on, hair pulled back but batter in it anyways. You smile that trademark smile but it isn't crooked anymore. Your braces and retainers have fixed that. Now, it's perfect. You don't need me to chase after the softball because you can catch it now, and I sit on the sidelines and photograph YOU during your basketball tournaments.

And here I remember when you could barely walk.
When you'd climb onto my back and I'd crawl around with you like a horse.
You loved that.
I didn't even care that you pulled chunks out of my hair just to stay on.
You loved that.
I loved that.

I loved you.
I always will.

Happy 11th Birthday, Cameron Marie.