Hey little man,
I'm sorry your birthday post is so late. I suppose just about every birthday post will begin that way from now on. That is the nature of managing a large family. Good intentions, never enough time.
Oh, son. My heart melts when I think of you. A sugar consumption negotiator, a master Lego builder, a scientist who captures grasshoppers in plastic soda bottles for observation, a sometimes boyfriend (to a very sweet little girl named Claire), a tenderhearted friend, a precious child of God, and beloved son of mine.
There are times when your feelings are hurt, and your mouth turns down at the corners, as you bravely will the tears to remain in your eyes, and there are times when your joy is so overwhelming you leap and bound around the room. There are days when you beg me to read just one more chapter of the Hardy Boys mystery and days when you your boundless energy sends you flying down the street on your sparking scooter. There are moments when you curl into my lap and lay your cheek against mine and moments when your strong will opposes mine and there is fire in your eyes.
When Grammy came in town for your birthday, I had to climb into the back seat and wedge myself between your booster seat and Maddie's. What I saw made my heart catch in my throat. Your feet barely dangled off the floor. If we removed the booster seat, you would most likely reach the floor. When did your legs grow so long, my boy? I laid my hand on your knee and turned away before you caught the tears in my eyes. I am oh-so-happy to see you growing and thriving. And I am oh-so-sad to be confronted with the physical evidence that you are growing up.
Up up and away…
So for now, I will snuggle in the chair cheek to cheek with you for as long as you'll allow. I will read you one more, two more, three more chapters in your book. I will pray for you every day. I will thank God for you every day.
Happy seventh birthday, my sweet Parker.