Eight

 

 
We got back home from a trip to North Carolina to visit family last night (and Seattle, thank you for resuming your normal 65 degree summer nights just in time for my return). Today, we have been celebrating Ian’s 8th birthday, which involves nibbling on his favorite birthday cake (Chicken’s gingerbread cake has been his official birthday cake every year for 3 years now) and stepping over the new giant Lego sets that he has been gifted. I can’t believe he’s 8. I’ve been thinking so much about his life today . Went digging through our old photo boxes to pull out some pics (and became very annoyed at the fact that everything after a certain point in our lives is only digital.)  I keep saying to myself that we are beyond lucky to parent this kid. Beyond. He is absolutely, unapologetically Ian in every way (and those that know him know what I mean), and I am often told by friends that he seems to be so completely okay and content with life in general. You can only imagine how that makes me, as a mother, feel, I so hope its in fact true. In Ian’s world, you can be loud, play Legos, play with friends (girls or boys, doesn’t matter), read graphic novels, and eat often. He is a homebody like his dad and me, but he also enjoys the occasional new and different (with a little coaxing from his sister).

He thinks his sister “hangs the moon” (to quote the south) and actually looked depressed when she went away to camp this summer. He constantly reminds me that most things which seem problematic at first glance really aren’t (“mom, don’t worry, we’ll find your keys”- and then, of course, we do)… that sometimes it really is just better to be by yourself for a little while… that sleeping in when you can is good…and that everything is better with a chocolate chip cookie.
Happy birthday Ian, how lucky we are.
 
Okay, I’m back in life, so I’ll be back here in this space with regularity again.