Dear JackRabbit–
When you were in kindergarten I could not fathom how you, too, would one day be a gangly little second grader. Those kids seemed huge compared to your little round-faced smallness. And now here you are– one of them.
You are so independent lately. The other night I was too tired to wake you up so that you’d go to the bathroom. Daddy usually does that when he and I come upstairs to bed… and I’ve done a good job of it while Daddy’s been in Japan– but that night I was too tired. I went into my room and laid down and dozed off– only to wake up when I heard your feet hit your floor and pad down the hall to the bathroom all by yourself! I was so proud of you and (bonus!) was very happy to have you snuggle up with me in my bed for the rest of the night.
You’re helping me take care of your school things and the dogs. You’re making great choices about your lunches and clothes. When it’s homework time you don’t complain — you just work to get it done. In the car you buckle yourself in. You’re trying new foods. And new words.
You love space. Anything space related captures you. There’s StarWars, of course– but also astronauts and planets and dwarf planets and the temperature and distance of the sun. You read these things and store them up for the car rides to school when they come out in the form of, “MOMmy! Did you know that….” or as a question (some of which requires me to do some googling…)
This past Sunday afternoon I offered to ride bikes with you. You were very excited and we walked toward the garage– only to be intercepted by your pal Colin. (“Backyard Colin, Mommy, not Colin H-.”) I saw the hesitation in your eyes and sent you off to play with Colin– he wanted to show you his friend and the deer stand his Dad had put together in their backyard. “Mom– I’ll be back in a few minutes and then we can go riding, okay?” I weeded while you walked around the corner with Colin and listened for your chatter. I don’t get you all to myself anymore– you have friends and plans. I realize how lucky I am that you are still excited about coming back to go for a bike ride with me.
It’s really neat to see you growing up. I still don’t know how we got from the hospital– just yesterday or last week– to this point– but I have loved every day of it.
This has been a great year– you had such a good time with Ms. Hughes in first grade; went to that fun rental cabin for Thanksgiving with Momma & Eric (and us, too); became a Tiger Scout; came up with being a “Capital One Viking” for Halloween; visited Disney World with AunT & Maddie & Keegan– and had a week’s worth of fun adventures there and the way to Florida and back; worked out with the big kids at soccer camp; “oh!’ed at the explosions at Science Camp; went up to The Lake for a week; went to waterparks; read all sorts of new books; discovered Phineas & Ferb and Lego StarWars; got baptized; spent a week at Family Camp… really, an awful lot of adventures for a seven year old.
Seven. It’s just so hard to believe.
I love you, sweet baby. I love being your Mommy. I love watching you discover things and figure things out. I love hearing you sound out words (“dis-entry” and “Chor-lee” came out a few weeks ago while you were playing Oregon Trail on my iPhone). I love that you are beginning to think about things in a true inquirer fashion. “MOMmy! Daddy! Is that a good learner question?” I love watching you sort out where the wiggle room is on negotiations with us (that 7:30 bedtime is still a sore spot. “Daddy! Damon goes to bed at 9 o’clock!”)
And I love that I can still convince you that baked egg cups are exactly what young jedis eat.
I wouldn’t change a single hair on your head– except to somehow make time go a little slower. Still– as you say you are “to be continued” and I’m excited to see how what happens next.
I hope tomorrow is a happy 7th birthday. It’s strange to plan this without your Daddy here to help me. I’ll do the things he would do if he were here and not on his business trip to Japan– I’ll cover your floor with balloons and give you lots of kisses at 4:01 p.m. when you are officially 7. And AunT & Keegan will be on hand to sing with your church family and buddies after choir practice. (Miss Claudia’s even making spaghetti especially for you!)
I love you so very, very much,
Mommy
