On Friday, my son turned eight.
This hardly seems possible, as it was just about a year ago that he entered the world, screaming like a cheetah and waving his fists. Or maybe it was a year ago that he finally sprouted some hair on the sides of his head, and took a few wavering steps toward me, drooling and babbling triumphantly.
No, I guess that has been a few years. Surely last year was the year where he was so excited over the Blue's Clues bag he received a gift in that he couldn't be bothered to open the present. Or maybe it was when his obsession with dinosaurs kicked in.
Okay, wow. He was pretty small when that all started. Maybe it was the time we celebrated his birthday with an outing to the beach?
No, he's much bigger than that now. Shoot.
This boy is looking a little bit more familiar. Surely kindergarten was only a month ago. Right?
I remember THAT little ditty like it was yesterday. And yet, the cheery little note on my calendar says my boy is EIGHT.
So, what has he been doing all these years? Losing teeth and growing new ones, for starters.
Learning every known fact about dinosaurs.
Mastering the almighty two-wheeler.
Alternately teasing his sisters and snuggling up to them.
Leaping in way over your head to almost any new situation, except those involving vegetables:
And of course, making my ears bleed from all the talking, and making my heart melt from all the loving.
Hey, buddy, I'm not quite sure how you woke up as an eight-year-old, when I clearly remember just yesterday when you fit in the crook of my arm. I remember all those milestones you've passed over these last eight, and yet I can't believe that you are so tall, and so smart, and so brave, and so... eight.
I'm the luckiest mom on the planet, and I'm glad you're my guy. I'm glad you still bury your nose in my neck when you hug me, and I'm glad that my kisses are still enough to make things right in your world. I know that's probably not long for this world. I'm also not in any hurry for your Elmer Fudd speech to fade, although with each passing month, it fades a little bit more. What can I say? It's nice to be wuved.