even the night before his birthday i begged him to stay six. i pleaded and bargained as only a totally in love mom would.
he just laughed at his silly mom and said he couldn’t wait to be seven. seven meant that he was closer to second grade. seven meant that if only for a few months he was older than his best friend. seven meant that he was one year closer to sitting in the front seat like his sisters.
but this silly mom was a little sad. okay alot sad. liked cried myself to sleep ugly cry sad.
seven means i am closer to loosing my snuggle time. seven means he is closer to second grade where kids get meaner. seven means that those baby cheeks are disappearing. seven means he closer to giving up the footy pjs with his little toe sticking out. seven means that he is wanting to be with his friends more than his mom.
with each year that passes i try. i try to hold on to the moments. the moments of toy story, hot wheels,little green army men, lego pieces all over the floor, and footed pjs.
until next year.
when i beg him to stay seven.