So . . . my boy turned 9 some months ago, and I missed his yearly blog. Sigh. Better late than never, right?
My boy, my (dare I say it?) almost pre-teen, becoming-a-man-child – it gets harder every year to look at him and think he was at one time a tiny, wriggling, sweet smelling infant. Now he’s this big gangly kid with a toothy grin and a goofy sense of humor.
He’s a champ, my boy. The third grade is anything but easy, yet he pushes through long lists of difficult spelling words and division because he really does want to give his best. He loves to learn. Loves facts, gobbles up knowledge and is eager to know not only why things work the way they do, but how. He’s reading his first Harry Potter, and I catch him doodling drawings of vikings, aliens and creatures he’s created in that head of his. I love it.
I love that he asks to pray at dinner time just so we can all give thanks together. That he hugs me when I’m sad, and gives his sisters a drink after dinner when I have finally sat down and would rather cry than get back up. He does his chores (mostly) without complaining. Heck, I am excited that he does chores at all.
He’s into John Wayne now and is eager to go fishing this spring. Oh, and you guys – he has begun “fixing” his hair in the morning. I have to buy more mousse.
I see my little boy morphing into this big kid, and I realize that there’s nothing I can do to stop it, so I guess I better learn to embrace it. The years just seem to collide into one another. The months tick by so fast. And so it goes. For now I am going to cherish every chapter of Harry Potter we read aloud together; enjoy watching westerns; this year I’ll teach him to cook more and do laundry.
Jonah, you’re the best son a mom could ask for. Sorry for being late on your birthday post – I love you forever.
XXOO – Your scatterbrained mama.