Maggie is 8 years old now. I cannot believe it. In fact, I am in denial so deeply that it has taken me over a week to write this post when her birthday is actually on New Year’s Day.

She fell asleep early and didn’t make midnight on New Year’s Eve. The next morning we made breakfast, loaded up in the car and drove up to Glenville, CA to go hiking, eat pizza and watch Maggie enjoy a ginormous piece of home made banana cream pie. I will tell you that no banana cream pie I have ever had comes close to the pie up at Hassano’s in Glenville.

Maggie is a unique combination of Mike and I. Mike likes to say that she has his sense of humor and my temper which = laugh at my jokes or I’ll kill you. It’s mostly true, although my temper really isn’t that bad and rarely do you have to threaten anyone to laugh at one of Mike’s jokes.

Maggie is mostly just her own unique self. While her parents wage a facebook debate on whether or not right or left socks exist (Mike believes in them religiously, Kate and I find it ridiculous and our friends seem to be split down the middle), Maggie hates to wear socks at all and can often be found jamming her feet into her Ugg boots barefoot.

Like her sister, she hates asparagus but loves broccoli. Unlike her sister, she isn’t fond of sushi but will threaten to cut anyone trying to take a bite of her shrimp fried rice. She insists on “salad” (usually fresh spinach) on every sandwich, but isn’t a fan of salads on their own unless we’re out at a restaurant. She’s not a big fan of peanut butter and jelly. She considers it a tragedy not to have a bowl of chicken noodle soup (even in the dead heat of summer) with her sandwiches. And, almost without fail, she insists on a doggy bag every time we go out to eat because “it’s so good I want to have it for breakfast or maybe later tonight for a snack!”

Maggie is the animal activist of the house. When her scorpion died a few months ago she sobbed for most of the day. Weeks and even months later she will tear up remembering Luke. Almost every night of summer vacation was spent chasing her turtle, Joe, around and fishing him out of our pond. Cut to this winter when a field mouse managed to find its way into the house and I discovered a different side of Maggie.

Maggie was very interested in the mouse traps. I was concerned that perhaps she didn’t realize what a mouse trap would really do to the intruder. Maggie overheard me voicing my concern to Mike (who was getting ready to show Maggie how a trap is set and how it works) she flew around the corner and said, “MOM! I’ve watched EVERY FREAKIN’ EPISODE of Billy the Exterminator! I KNOW how a mouse trap works!”

Later that night… “MOM!!! We caught him! He’s dead… he was so cute, I almost feel bad. They are dirty creatures…”

Not too long ago Maggie gave me a nickname, Mother Kadam (KUH-dam) Pooskie, no clue where or how she came up with it, but it cracks me up. She told Katie once, “If you call mom, Mother Kadam Pooskie, she almost always says yes.” Maggie isn’t really manipulative as much as she just calls a spade a spade and works the system to her advantage whenever possible.

Today my little 8 year old is still on Christmas break and managed to come down with a nasty cold to finish off her winter vacation. She has spent her day tucked in quilts on the couch, dozing, sipping hot cider and watching cartoons. Every once in a while I’ll hear, “Mother Kadam Pooskie…” followed by a request of the usual sick child variety. As usual, she’s working the system to her advantage, it’s an enviable life, that’s for sure.