To Bruise and Bucket, as you are almost eight

Today is the day before you turn eight.
It's a pretty big deal.
You're reaching the age of accountability. I'm going to raise my expectations for you.

Both of you, I need you to THINK.
Think before you act.
Think before you speak.
Think of what would be a good decision for you. What will be best in the long run?

There are a few weeks before you're baptised. This is a great time to consider our Savior and his sacrifice. Jesus chose to suffer in the Garden of Gethsemane and to suffer and die on the cross for YOU.
You as an individual. Because He loves YOU just that much.

Dad and I love you, too.
Even when you don't pick up your stuff (but we love it when you choose to pick up your things and leave the rooms you've been in cleaner than how you found them).

Bruise, in a few short years, you're going to receive the Aaronic priesthood. This will allow you to serve in ways that you haven't before. Please honor your priesthood power. Remember that you are a son of God. You have amazing talents and He put you here on Earth, exactly where you are, for a reason.
Dad and I love you. We want to help you grow and learn to be your best self.

I am amazed at how much you've grown. I can still see you, in my memory, how I first met you. Barely a minute old, they showed you to me after our ordeal of labor and delivery. As soon as I saw your face, I knew that we had named you correctly. I didn't get to hold you until the next day, but you've never held that against me.

You are the sweetest boy I know. You can be sensitive. You can be a goofball. You love to laugh. You love to create and imagine. You are kind to your sisters. You seem to have a song in your heart at all times. Sometimes, you are so insightful that I have to catch my breath. I am thankful for you.

Happy day before your eighth birthday, Bruise. I love you.
    Mom



Bucket, you are quickly (sometimes a little too quickly!) growing into a wonderful young lady. Please always remember, no matter how others treat you or what the media says, that you ARE a daughter of God. You have divine potential and infinite worth, that the most lovely girls are those with souls that radiate beauty.
Develop your many talents ... if you work on them, you'll never be bored. Especially if you develop your talent of service.
Heavenly Father had you come to Earth at this time, in this place, for a reason. And we're glad that you have. You are so special to us. We love you very much. And, because of that, we want to help you to learn and grow to be the best person you can be.

Often, as I look at you, I start to see you all-at-once. You're your newborn self, rolling your eyes as I feed you for the first time. You're your sweet toddler self with your impish grin. You're your child-self as you are now -- happy and silly and confident. I also catch glimpses of you as your future self, a teenager, a mother.

You are clever. Sometimes even too clever for your own good. You give me glimpses of what I put my mother through ... and that gives me proof of how much your Mutti loved/loves me that she let me live. (I love you, dear girl. Even when you are driving me crazy. Sometimes, you are too much like me. I still love you.) You have a love for (nearly) all God's creations. You have a love for learning. When you think nobody is looking, you dance with a grace that I adore. You have wonderful artistic talent that amazes me. I am thankful for you.

Happy day before your eighth birthday, Bucket. I love you.
     Mom



Bubbles, you're not turning eight.
Not for another six years and nearly two months. Thank you for that.
But you don't make it easy to write sentimental letters to your siblings while sitting/climbing in my lap. Though, your opera-babble is quite entertaining.

Thank you for being little still. And for being cuddly.
And thank you for making me laugh by going and laying down next to Freyja-cat and tickling her. It's a good things she loves you enough to put up with that.
 I love you, too, Bubbles.
         Mom