My Baby is 10

My youngest turned ten yesterday. And as I sat there scrolling through years of her photos — from that tiny newborn face to the confident, sassy girl she is now — I couldn’t help but tear up. It hit me that she’s the last of my four to reach that age where the cuddles and kisses start to fade, and the attitude, eye rolls, and independence start to roll in a little stronger each day.

We always joke, “God gave her to us last because we probably couldn’t have handled any more after her.” And honestly? There’s some truth to that. She’s one of a kind — full of personality, opinion, and leadership. Maybe it’s because she’s the baby of the family, but this girl acts like she’s been here before. She runs the show without even realizing it.

Somewhere between the birthday candles and the late-night photo scroll, it hit me hard — I really need to slow down and soak in these moments while she still wants to hang out with me. Before she becomes too cool, too busy, too grown like her siblings. Because this stage — this sweet, sassy, in-between age — doesn’t last long.