My little baby is 7 today. Seven. I blinked and that scrawny little chicken-legged boy grew into a gangly elementary school student. He went from the infant who screamed for hours at a time to the boy who calls the Pancake Puffs Pan number in the middle of the night.
Speaking of which, guess what Grandma got our little mail order dude for his birthday? Yup, he’s now the proud owner of his very own cast iron Pancake Puffs Pan. We will be making these this weekend and I will be posting a review once we survive the experience.
So A is now 7 and I have surprisingly few gray hairs. Highlighting does wonders. Having him has changed me in so many ways. Like a meat mallet, he has tenderized my heart and soul (yeah, quite the analogy, I know). Hammering away, incessantly pounding away, he has changed me. I’m more resilient now, and more tender. I have more patience, and put up with less crap. I’m stronger, and more vulnerable.
A is the most amazing kid. He is so bright. He is so creative. He draws people to him in a way I truly envy. This kid makes friends like no one I’ve ever known. He wants to be a Mythbuster. Legos are the be-all, end-all for him. He somehow knows some kids need friends more than others and instinctively seeks them out. He loves babies and will go out of his way to go up and say hi or make silly faces or give them kisses.
A is also the most exasperating child I have ever known. He knows my buttons and knows just how hard to push them and how often and just how to twist them at the same time for maximum effect. He also has a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde thing going on sometimes and doesn’t warn me which one is making his appearance. All in a days work for his mom, I suppose.
I love this boy, this young man-to-be. He amazes me daily. And he is going to change the world.