And that is exactly how it happened.
Sunday night I went to sleep the mother of a six year old boy. Monday morning I woke up to discover I was the mother of a seven year old boy. Funny how that happens.
Age hasn't changed him much. He's still the same sweet/stubborn boy he's always been.
So determined to grow up as fast as he can.
He's got all kinds of plans. He's going to take the army netting in his room with him when he goes to college. And the dog.
(Who sleeps tucked under a blanket because he tucked her in.)
And when he's a grown up he will drink diet coke and call me by my first name. And he will buy the house next door because he doesn't want to live with me forever, but he always wants to live close to me.
Despite my best efforts to keep him small forever he does insist on growing. And I'm sure all those things he dreams of are going to happen for him one day (except the calling me by my first name thing. I just can't get on board for that one. He will have to learn some disappointment in his life). I want his life to be full of good things, but I also want him to have the skills to deal with disappointment and adversity and challenges and sorrow. Because I know life is full of that stuff too. I want so many things for my sweet little man.
Happy Birthday Meaty.