You, my boy, are seven. Seven. SEVEN. I know that people tell you that the years fly by when you have kids, and I have said the same, but I honestly can’t seem to process the fact that you are seven.
This school year has been a tough one on me when it comes to you. Not in regards to your school work (You’re doing fantastic) or in regards to your friends (You have some great ones) but it regards to the fact that you are in the second grade. Starting school in Kindergarten was emotional for me as your Mom because it meant that you were entering a whole new stage of life. You would be spending a few days a week under the care of an adult that was not your Dad or I and you would be filling your days with activities that I would not be a part of, other than school newsletters and hand-made crafts that you brought home. Despite this, you still seemed so young. So little. So not-quite-grown-up.
The same held true for the first grade. You started attending school full-time but the bandage of being apart from me had been ripped off the year before. You were learning a lot, started reading (well) and discovered your creative side. Despite all of this, you still seemed like a kid and not a big boy.
This has all changed. There’s something about saying that you’re in second grade that makes you seem bigger. Older. All grown up. Throw in the fact that you are now seven and, well, I simply can’t believe it. But enough about me – let’s talk about you.
You are one really neat kid. That may seem like a statement that doesn’t say a lot, but in actuality it sums you up pretty perfectly.
People love you. I’m not just talking about family and close friends who love you because we are family. I’m talking about people who have had only minor encounters with you. You have this energy about you that is palpable. You love life, it shows, and it is contagious.
You’re a smart kid. Like, crazy smart. Not only that, you are so gifted creatively that I wonder where it bring you in your life. You like to make books. BOOKS. They come complete with a storyline and illustrations and, well, DUDE. I am so incredibly proud of your talent.
In the creative realm, you are also a Lego master. You will dig through the bucket and form these ridiculous masterpieces. I can only build a Lego structure if I follow instructions and even then it’s sketchy. You, however, will bring up something you made, tell me it’s, say, Bumblebee and lo! It looks like Bumblebee.
Every morning when you get up you come to me for a big sleepy hug. Throughout the day you will sing a little ditty you made up with the refrain, “I love my Momma” and my heart melts every. single. time. At the end of the day when we tuck you in and ask you what you are thankful for you say, “That you’re my Mom.” You smother me with love, kiddo, and make both laugh and tear up all day long.
You love babies. You have ever since you were a baby yourself. You were twenty months old when Nathan was born and you would call him “B”. That same love is bestowed upon your baby sister Emily. This love of babies extends beyond our immediate family to any baby we encounter in our travels. You talk to them, you play with them, you make them smile from ear to ear and usually, giggle.
You have this same effect on everyone, kiddo. I know that you’re mine and that you’ve got a unique place in my heart because you’re my firstborn, but you truly are something special. I know it, Daddy knows it, Nathan and Emily know it…everybody knows it. You are a treat to be around and one of the biggest blessings I have ever received.
I love you, dude. Happy Birthday.