How Young is Older than They Were?

My little Megan is only 8 years old. I forget too often how young she is. She is the 5th child in a family of 8 living children (would be 6 of 9 if Heather were still here). When there are older children in the family, it's easy to talk to the younger ones as if they were older, too.
Megan has always been so intelligent that, soon after she was speaking well, it was easy to make that mistake with her... to talk to her like a little adult instead of like a child.

I was watching some home video with my kids not long ago and realized something that made me very sad: Years ago, I spoke to my little boys (the older ones are boys) in so much more of a sweet and tender tone. I spoke to them as if there were little children. I was patient and didn't expect so much from them... maybe a disservice in some ways, yes, but they seemed to be allowed to be incapable, uneducated, not strong enough, not willing... and it was OK.
Meg-pie came along after a few years. She followed after four other children had come and grown to be 3, 5, 9, and 13. She came to a mother who was accustomed to speaking to older children, even a teenager.
Megan never demanded to be talked down to. She has never asked that I speak with a slightly softer voice when I ask her to get the laundry from the dryer... or put a load in to wash.
At 8 years old, I depend on her to help with the baby while I take care of this business or that. She changes diapers. She rocks her little brother to sleep. She loads and unloads the dishwasher, can straighten any room in the house as well as some adults, and can run the carpet shampooer. She comforts her 2 year old sister when a knee is skinned and I'm not handy and reads books to her 4 year old sister. Megan is so much more of a little mother at a younger age than any child I've ever known.
I hope, when she is older, she doesn't compare our old home movies of when she was little to those from when the older kids were little-- and come away feeling cheated. I wonder if she would hear the common tone in my voice compared to the musical voice of my younger-mother-self? I wonder if she will ever say anything about it, if she does hear it? I wonder if I'm the only one who notices?
Either way, I can't undo that which has been done. I can't go back and re-speak any of the words that have escaped my lips over the years to change the ring of them. Yet, I can go forward with more attention to the rest of Megan's childhood (and the younger three)... while it still lingers.
Megan is such a magnificent little girl. She will, no doubt grow to be a wonderful, choice woman. I look forward to the day I will see her in her splendor, having magnified and filled the measure of her creation. But, not yet. Not now. Not too soon. I want her childhood to linger longer. I want her to enjoy these fleeting years of her youth. I want her to feel loved and cherished. I want her to be happy.
Today, I will begin to remember she is only a little girl. Only 8 years old. Although very bright and skilled, she is still so young.
My self-corrected path will be one I walk leaning more toward her little hands hanging below mine, instead of expecting her so often to reach for me.