From 7 to 8

I am taking part in “The Write Tribe Festival of Words 1st to 7th September 2013".

       A minute before midnight and then a minute after, as the clock ticked away one minute my son was 7 and the next 8 years old.  Yet he didn’t look different.  He is still my precious little boy full of piss and vinegar and topped with sweetness.   Where has the time gone?  Only yesterday it seems that my precious son was born at 8:31 am in the eighth month and on the thirty first day.  8:31 on 8/31 seems like quite the phenomenon to mark the birth of my only son.

       I watched as he transformed from a baby to a big boy growing taller each day.  I watched him stumble, fall, climb straight up, dive onto his head, and finally learn to walk and run.  I have prayed as he recovered from concussions caused by his over exuberance and tendency to act the dare devil andcried with him when he got stitches.   
His 7th year was full of milestones.  He completed 1st grade, read oodles of books, mastered math facts, and conquered lots of video games.  He even won first place at his school’s science fair and won the right to show his project at next level.  He completed his first year of 4H and brought home a blue ribbon.  Often I look into those big baby blue eyes that sparkle with happiness and mischief, see that big smile, and fall in love with him all over again just as I did the moment I first laid eyes on him.  I have endured his phases of everything Batman to his current fascination with Spiderman, and during it all worried that he didn’t eat enough and that he would waste away.  I still haven’t figured out how he could love vegetables when he was a baby and avoid them like the plague now.

  

       I was determined that I would not have another baby in September.  In our little family September is filled with events: our wedding anniversary, and my daughter’s and husband’s birthdays.  Even though my due date was in September, my son obviously agreed and made his big debut on the last day of August.  As if by magic he went from 7 to 8 in the blink of an eye.  One minute he was a precious little baby fresh home from the hospital wearing a preemie outfit and the next a little boy who will never be 7 again, but no matter how big he grows or where in the world he ends up, he will always be my baby, my little man, and my precious little miracle.