When You Turn Seven

When you turn seven your baby face is gone. Your limbs are skinny and gangly and your smile contains a missing tooth. You have begun to pick up habits of other kids at school and you complain about your lunches being "too healthy." You talk nonstop about Minecraft, but you still play with trains and matchbox cars.

You wrote your first research paper on Colin Powell and memorized it to present before the class.  Are you even old enough for that? You are smart and sassy and loud, sometimes a naughty concoction that drives me up the wall. You enjoy reading if it's something you are interested in and you read really well. So well, it's hard to believe that at 4 you were just grasping letter sounds and stringing them together to read words like 'and' and 'was'. 

You are still more known throughout the town then your dad and I. Everyone knows Gavin. And the principal says, "Your smile lights up a room." He's right, it does. You are full of energy, sun up to sun down. You are always hungry, but you never seem to gain an ounce. You don't seem to be getting taller, but your pants keep getting shorter. The things you say make me laugh and you still always ask questions about how things work or for the meaning of words.  You love music and you want to play your dad's guitar, your fingers just too small. So we bought you a drum set, you love to play at the instrument store.

I mentioned laser tag for your birthday party, which you had never played, and you were sure that's what you wanted.  So laser tag it was. Your dad and I played with you and your friends. It was so much fun! I laughed so hard, worked up a sweat and ached for days from crouching to hide around short walls. At the end of the day, as you laid in bed, you said your favorite part of the day was sneaking up on mommy and shooting her with your laser gun. It sounds terrible when you say it like that, but it was my favorite part of the day, too. 

Sometimes I wish you could shape shift back into that little baby, or the sweet toddler with mispronounced words and warm snuggles. Mostly though, I'm happy you are healthy and so very capable and independent. When you turn seven, and you hold my hand, your hand is a little bigger, but it still fits like a puzzle piece in mine.