purple is his favorite color now. it used to be blue or green but it's purple now. and there are other things. he refuses to cut his hair. there are new freckles-- a generous splatter across the bridge of his nose and these new freckles, they kill me. he's a chess player, a bucket drummer, a lover of kickball. a dawdler, a writer, a voracious eater of avocados. he tests prospective pairs of tennis shoes by sprinting up and down the aisles of target. which ones make me run faster, mama? he will not stop until I've watched him. I mean, until I've really, really watched him. and I do watch but I always just pick the cute ones. all year long, we put off buying new tennis shoes and then the night before field day, there we were. it was decided that the silver and blue ones were the fastest (cutest) and he loved them so much he slept in them that night. I did not fight this. it was late and anyway, I get it. I love shoes that much sometimes too.
he's a tester of boundaries, an asker of questions, a singer of little songs. he's quick to laugh and it sounds like something to me, like something I can't name. like syrup that comes out too fast, like a pop of confetti. he will not step on cracks. this is because he genuinely does not want to break his mother's back. he's diligent about this, he will not listen to reason. this secretly pleases me. not the refusing to listen to reason part but the protective part. mostly, because I can relate. I am fiercely protective of family-- fiercely and sometimes irrationally. (there are stories but those are for another day, another time). his room is a disaster, a battle we will surely fight until the end of our days. we are swimming in legos but I can think of worse things. he's a cloud lover, a nest spotter, a fine assistant in the kitchen. we cracked eggs until he got it right and dang it if his face didn't light up like a christmas tree. cooking together will be our thing, I think.
yesterday, we celebrated eight. with breakfast in bed, star-shaped sandwiches in his lunchbox and donuts (with sprinkles) for classmates. with a trip to the park to play catch, a trip to the photobooth for a solo strip, black bean burritos for dinner and chocolate birthday cake for dessert. presents were ripped into, legos were assembled. the passing of seven was properly mourned and eight was ushered in with great enthusiasm. I do not take a second of this life with him for granted.
