On Friday, September 3rd, you turned 7 years old. I remember being pregnant with you, feeling your wild little kicks, and wondering what sort of a person you would be? What would my child even look like? And then you were born, and I could not stop looking at your perfect little face. We spent a lot of time just staring at each other, you and I. I would kiss your tiny lips and feel the impossibly soft fuzz that topped your head, and shake my head in wonder. And immediately, I loved you.
Now, at the age of seven, I look at you, and I am so happy at who you are becoming. In the past year you have become so much more confidant in yourself, self-assured. Even though we butt heads more and more, I am so glad that you know what you want, and that you're learning how to handle yourself, and communicate what you feel.
I love it that you chose "jam cakes" (a.k.a. thumbprint cookies, inspired by the book "Mary Poppins" that we're currently reading together) for your school-birthday-treat instead of the usual status quo cupcakes that all of your friends ask for:
(I used this recipe from Cooks.com, but added the jam afterwords, bringing the jam to a simmer first so that it would set in the indentations)
Eating lunch in the school cafeteria -- I "stole" Max from his class table so that we could sit together on Friday
Your creative process always intrigues me, and it makes me so happy to see you running free with your imagination, building villages in the sand, drawing endless pictures of different scenes from your own original stories, dreaming up complicated adventures for your siblings and friends to play with you.
Building a very intricate village in the school sandbox during recess -- Sparky had me wear his birthday hat so that I could ensure that the wind did not take it away.
I feel so unbelievably privileged to be among the first to know you, and watch your personality unfold. Your freckles, your pale blue eyes, your shy little smile continues to charm me. I am so glad that you are my son.
I love you, my little friend.