Nine, ni, neuf, neun!

Dear Maddie,

Yesterday you turned nine.

It was a wonderful day and you were full of exuberance from the moment you woke up until you finally dropped off to sleep.  There’ll be pictures of the day, and maybe video, on this blog eventually, but that’s not what this post is about.

It is, like all the birthday posts I’ve done for you and your sister, not about who you are right now, but the journey that brought you here.

Because it’s utterly amazing to me that the thriving, athletic, brilliant beauty that you are today can be traced back to that 1300 gram bundle of squeals that I met nine years ago in Rigshospitalet.

Here you are just a few weeks ago…

And not long before that, in Portugal…

I giggle every time I see that picture of you tasting Daddy’s pilsner, but since it’s not a fair reflection of you, I’ll throw in a more typically adorable shot of you from the same trip:

And here you are aged 7, summer of 2016 in Carnas.

And later that same day in Sommière:

And just to mess with the chronological order a little, here you are a few months later in Oslo:

And here you are in the summer of 2015, aged 6, mistress of the café you’d set up with your boyfriend Harald:

And summer 2014, aged 5, at Bakken:

And summer 2013, age 4, in America:

And summer 2012, aged three:

And summer 2011, aged 2, on Loon mountain in New Hampshire:

And spring 2010, aged 1½, in Munich (with chicken pox):

And here you are the previous summer, with an age measured in months:

Which brings us all way back to this, one of the first pictures taken of that 1300 gram bundle of squeals I mentioned earlier:

So tracing it back like that, I can see exactly how you’ve become who you are.

And I guess it doesn’t even really matter how you’ve become this incredible person, only that you are this incredible person.

Happy birthday, Maddie, from a Mor and a Daddy who couldn’t be prouder of you and can’t wait to see all the incredible people you’re going to be in the years ahead!

Author: This Moron

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