It was the fastest six seconds of our lives. First she was there, then blink and she's one. By the time we catch our breath we blink and Nugget is two, then three...four...five.
We blinked again today and now she is six. Six! I know how it happens from a biological and chronological point of view but it is still hard to wrap my head around.
Nugget is six. She is in senior infants. She is donating her hair to wig shops for kids with no hair and raising money in the process. She is attending large parties with her peers and has more friends now than I have contacts in my phone. She is smart and weird, strong and scared, bored and brilliant all rolled into one. She has a hobby collecting hobbies, but she never forgets which hobby is the current favourite.
The ladyfriend put together a little collage of pictures from Nugget's six years (SIX!) on the planet. You don't notice the changes daily, they slowly happen. The round head has hair, the cheeks are less chubby, the smile more sly when it has to be. But looking at the pictures the changes are evolutionary. Leaps and bounds, moments captured in time that has gone by so quickly.
I'm starting to think I should pop toothpicks under my eyelids to stop blinking and not risk her being seven before I get to sleep tonight.
Since we couldn't really do anything last year, this year we broke our 'No kids parties in the house' rule and let her ask around a small group of her school friends. It was utter carnage. Between bouncy castle fun, toy arguements, sugar highs and lows, the chaos gods themselves would have wondered what was going on.
But when the dust had settled, the last fanta filled fucker sent back to their home, and Nugget was getting tucked into bed we got our reward.
"Best birthday ever," she said, wrapping her arms around our necks and squeezing with all her might.
Sure isn't that what we do it for in the end really.