Eight.

My boy is eight today. I have an eight year old.

So weird.

No longer do I have to do much for him – he can do so much for himself, and others. He has become my right-hand man during the day. Most of the time, he’s willing and cheerful. Okay, maybe half the time. The other half? I’ve interrupted a serious battle, or game, or something that is more important than what I want him to do. Still, I like that cheerful half an awful lot, and I’m seeing more of it as he grows.

He’s independent, smart, dramatic about everything, loving, confident, and he tries so hard to be the best at everything. He’s not the best, but he tries. He’s polite (mostly), but can’t help laughing at a good belch. He’s all boy, but tender-hearted and sensitive. He loves a good “beat-up” time with his daddy or brother, but will still crawl into my lap sometimes for cuddles. His favorite color is red, because that’s the same color as blood. He can read like a champ, and scored in the 99th percentile in spelling this year.

I’m so proud to call him my son, and I wish he would stop growing so very fast.

Anyway – we celebrated his birthday morning with pancakes as usual, with one exception: The Stewarts stayed the night. They just happen to be closing on their house this morning, and ran out of paid nights in the hotel on base. So, rather than having to move from one hotel to another for only one night, we had them stay with us. We were blessed to have the boys be a part of our celebration.

This is all the kiddos waiting to be allowed into the kitchen, except Edward, who was mad at his momma for leaving him with me while they went to sign papers. Blueberry pancakes improved his mood greatly!

We all sang happy birthday with great gusto and feeling, then tucked into our pancakes with a will. Only a few were left, which I wanted to save for Stewy. Alas! Edward decided to decorate the table with them…oops.

We were able to get Durin a scooter, something he’s asked for for a long time. Since it was on sale for half-off, we also picked out Battleship, and he battled Christian. He lost, but he’s optimistic that his next game will result in victory!

He received some fun gifts and cards from his Granny & Grandad (he cracked up at the monkey noises), his Nanny Judy, and the Stewarts.


Click on any of the above thumbnails to see the pictures full-size.

So, anyway, he’s eight years old. Only ten more years until he’s “grown-up”. Sigh. I can’t quite wrap my head around that.

As long as he keeps going the direction he is now, he’ll grow up to be a man like his Daddy. I can live with that, I’m pretty sure. I just wish the years would slow down, even a little. Let me take in this view a little more completely.

I want to sip on this time slowly, and savor it.

Yet, I’m forced to gulp, because things move quickly, whether I want them to or not.

Maybe I should just stop blinking, so I don’t miss anything.

Grace & Peace,
Tiffany

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2 thoughts on “Eight.

  1. Let me know if that blinking thing works out for you! Happy Birthday Durin. I was doing pretty good about my little weeds till you mentioned only 10 years left! What the heck am I going to do! The days seem so lond sometimes, but I wonder at where all the time has gone.

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