I never pushed little candles through the crust of golden baked bread until yesterday.

It was Sam’s 10th birthday, and for his cake he didn’t want cake. He didn’t want pie. He wanted a loaf of french bread. Around here, we try to comply with even the most unusual birthday requests. French bread is easy.

The only protest regarding Sam’s celebratory treat came from Tommy, who missed frosting. My husband decided to remedy that oversight by quickly making a batch of whipped cream. It felt a little odd to dollop whipped cream on soft bread, but it was actually pretty yummy. I ate my share. We all did.

Appetites were hearty because before candle time, we had a water balloon fight at the park down the street. After the balloons were expired, the kids played tag and duck-duck-goose.

Sam is a fascinating person. He is whip-smart, sunny, funny, and very quirky. Not only did he want french bread for his birthday, he wanted his own bulbs of garlic and a wedge of aged parmesan—which he got. Of course. I can’t wait to see what he wants for his 11th birthday. I can’t wait to see what he wants for his 19th birthday, his 27th, his 58th.

But for now, he’s perfectly 10.

(birth story fans can read Sam’s here)

If I had a baby girl on this day in 1997, she must be 13.

I carried her in my body for almost 42 weeks.

I nursed her as a newborn. I watched her blossom into a gorgeous, bubbly blue-eyed baby. I tried to wrap my mind around her toddler tantrums and antics and managed to get her through those years unscathed.

I watched her write her name as a preschooler. I dropped her off at school on her first day of Kindergarten. She read thicker and thicker books and completed math problems with increasingly high numbers—without my help.

She grew taller, lovelier, wiser.

She is still growing in that direction, up and eventually away. That’s the goal, right? For our children to be independent, self-sufficient, productive, good, and on their own.

She’s entering the last official stage of childhood with an eye on the future. She is optimistic and proud, but she is also realistic. During dinner on a recent night, she told the boys there may be days ahead when she is very crabby and days when she is happy.

It’s normal, she said.

I laughed from the kitchen, amazed by her self-awareness. Or perhaps she’s been reading The Care and Keeping of You again? Either way, she still delights me in the same way she delighted me as a hammy preschooler. She’s still cute. She’s still my girl.

It’s time for the teens around here, ready or not.

Happy 13th Birthday to our Aidan Elizabeth.