for my little boy friday.

only two days left of seven
for the little boy.

*sigh.*

& while eight isn't big-boy territory quite yet,
for me, there's something extra-special
about the 5-6-7 years.

they lose their front teeth.
they learn to read.
they go potty on their own.
they don't know [or care] they have chocolate-milk moustaches.
they tell jokes that make no sense & aren't really funny
[except that they make no sense].
they giggle uncontrollably. like, every day.
they weep every day. but not uncontrollably.
they smell good, mostly.
all they want to do is play.
they like a smooching.
they love to snuggle.
they still need you.

oh, my darling little goofball of a guy,
much of what you are today
i hope never, ever changes.
& of course, some of it i hope does.
& naturally, some of it will, regardless of my vote.

i just love you so much, just the way you are.

happy, happy birthday, my sweet baboo.
i bet eight will be just great. just like you.