Today he turned eight. My sweet boy who was just swaddled in my arms on a operating table a second ago, turned eight.
He woke up excited about the birthday breakfast that dad went and got for him before he went to work, a cream filled long john with chocolate icing. He opened one present and then headed upstairs to get ready for school. He told me about the state reading test that he was taking today and what his goal score was. I dropped him off at school and he climbed out of the truck and told me he loved me and then waved as he walked away, like he always does. I surprised him at school for lunch and sat with him as he ate his chicken nuggets with his friends. Before I left he snuggled into me and gave me a big hug and kiss and thanked me for coming, melt my heart. I picked him up from school and he climbed in and told me that he “crushed” his reading test which made me laugh. He got the mail for me like he does every day, played a little Minecraft with Evie, and then helped me decorate his cake. He asked me to write the “Happy Birthday” with the icing, but he wanted to do his name. It was a rainy, windy, and chilly day, but he insisted on going to track practice. I showed up with treats afterwards and his coach said, “It’s his birthday? He didn’t even tell us!”. Then he asked me if he could practice the long jump a few more times. He got in a few more jumps before the rain returned. We picked up pizza, his choice for supper, and then opened gifts and blew out candles. Snuggle time with dad before I tucked him in, but not without a few tears. When I asked him why he was crying he said that he was just so sad that his birthday was over because it was such a great day, but mostly because he doesn’t want to grow up. So through my own tears I told him what a gift he is and how he’s growing up into such an awesome kid and that we wouldn’t want to stop growing the awesomeness, now would we? But everything within me wanted to sob right along with him and tell him I don’t want him to grow up, either. But we wouldn’t want to stop growing the awesomeness, now would we? Hugs and prayers and kisses and our ritual “I love you more” and his first day of eight was in the books.
Happy Birthday bubby. You are amazing. You are so smart and kind and driven. I thank God every day for the gift of you and your awesomeness. Love you.