My wonderful, gregarious, thoughtful, smart, funny boy turns seven today. Seven. In the immortal words of Ted Logan (and whose words will totally date me as the 41 year old mother I am): “Whoa.”
He’s currently taking karate daycamp and was excited this morning as it was laser tag day. (Because who would not be excited for laster tag day?) He’s made some immediate and fast friends at karate camp already as is his nature (remembering names is apparently less so his forté – they are all “dude” at the beginning) so despite the despair of school ending a few weeks ago, he is, apparently, doing just fine. This is my kid: adaptable.
So, in the grand tradition of the Arbolog, a letter to my son on the occasion of the of the anniversary of his appearance into this world.
And a photo of the family on a bed. (Complete set here).
What a year our family has experienced. You kept me so busy last summer I hardly blogged. That was okay though; it’s okay to be quiet, right? There were no big parenting conundrums I didn’t feel equipped to solve, and you had a schedule, dude, full of karate, musical theatre class, playdates, Juice Fridays, hanging out, reading.
You’ve learned to swim and you’re such an avid reader the bookshelf can hardly keep up to. You love camping, rainbows, your friends, your family. You are really into birdwatching and nature, and you’ve recently started loving to take pictures with your camera. You’re starting to get the nuance of joke-telling.
In May, you learned (finally) to tie your shoes in a matter of a day or two because that’s how your brain works: once you make the decision to learn a thing, you just work at it and figure it out. You are so incredibly full of try and rarely get overly frustrated or quit something because it’s too hard. You understand things need to be learned, and oh boy do you love to learn.
You and Dad have been playing chess lately. I can see it frustrates you sometimes that you can’t find a good move, but Dad is patient and you’re getting it! One day you and I were at Steel & Oak having a lemonade and a beer, and you asked to play with one of their house games and we were playing, and a man was utterly amazing at a six year old playing chess and told me it was “the most cerebral” thing he’d ever seen. To me, it was just you being you.
You are less fussy about clothing these days, but that’s probably because no tag goes unclipped and we’ve been careful about what types of clothes we buy you. You agreed to a haircut not too long ago – the first one in like, a full year – and she trimmed off a scant 3/4″ and you pronounced it “perfect”. You seem unbothered by the heat wave and the hot hair on your neck – refusing to pull it back, and instead suggesting that’s something you’ll try when school is back in. You are into placating your mother and you know what words to say to me. 🙂
A few months ago I went to a workshop about parenting. One session I attended was about raising sensitive kids and it was like the woman running the session was in your head. You are sensitive about everything it seems: physical and auditory sensory things and also feelings and emotions. You have anxiety at times as a result, but we can manage your anxieties with relative ease.
Your brain loves order, rules, and routine, but you’re such a creative kid. You are not afraid to dance, sing, move your body as it pleases you. You’ve been learning not only how to read music, but also how composing actually works at your musical theatre class. You love puzzle games on iPads or iPhones, and when you build things in Minecraft, they are orderly, symmetrical, and neat, but still decorated and unusual.
We lost Mooki only a few weeks ago and you were heartbroken – truly heartbroken. I haven’t seen you cry that hard in quite some time. You are a logical kid though, and adaptable, and you’ve matter of factly been telling people about how Mooki died but that she was old, and lived a long happy life, and that her spirit still lives in your heart. (Sniff. No, that’s just something in my eye.)
This summer we’re going camping and you’re signed up to a bunch of camps – bike camp (still haven’t mastered that one, hopefully a bike camp will help), musical theatre camp and multi activity camp. I’ve got a fun day trip planned over to the Royal BC Museum. You wake each day and tell me how great you slept. You live and love each day with such vigour. I wish I could be as cheerful as you.
Thankfully, you still tell me how much you love me, all the time. You’re still happy to hug and kiss me when we say goodbye and hello, and when we say goodnight and you ask if I will sleep beside you for a while, I seriously die. Please don’t ever change this.
I can’t believe you’re my kid. I sometimes think you’re a reward for anything wrong or unfair or bad that has ever happened to me. Your Dad and I totally won the lottery with you. You made our marriage stronger and our lives better and I am so incredibly thankful.
Happy birthday, my love. Thank you for being you. Here’s to a sunny and serene year.
Your Year in Review on Instagram: