Maybe, if I repeat it to myself over and over again for the next few days, it will seem true to me by next weekend, when it’s time for your “real party”.
But I don’t think so.
It can’t possibly have been 7 years since I first saw your little face.
7 years since you arrived and changed… oh, every little thing.
I don’t believe it really, but you tell me that it’s true. You tell me several times a day, in fact.
“Mama, I’m SEVEN! Can you believe it?”
No. No I can’t.
Seven with your lost teeth and your reading prowess. Seven, riding without training wheels, pouring your own cereal. Seven, with sleepovers and video games and wondering about how one chooses a wife. Seven, and no longer asking me to push you, because you can swing yourself higher than I can push anyway.
And you. You are just so wonderful.