Journaling life and thoughts from a sleepy bedroom community outside Atlanta, GA. Feel free to call it God's country.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
IT'S HIS PARTY AND I'LL CRY CAUZ I NEED TO. . . .
Cry cauz I need to,
CRY-YY cauz I need to,
You would cry too if this baby grew up on youuuu!!!
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
He's not a baby anymorrrreee, look at himmmmm oh my gosh he might as well be a MAN but look how happy.
I'm a big bag of whiny mush. He's turning double digits. Ten. Ten years old. He's been practicing how to say it.
I'm ten.
I'm ten years old.
Ten.
Ten years.
Ummmmm, ten? Yeah.
Hmm? Oh. Ten.
Here's what his heart is saying.
I AM TEN YEARS OLD, WOOOO HOOOOOO!!!!
He's one of the oldest kids in his class. Usually THE oldest but this year one kid beat him to the punch. It's one of his big deals, and this year? the kid that beat him out? GIRL. Oh yeah. He's suffering. Well. Mom's coming with Toll House Cookies at lunchtime. That'll kick him up a k-notch-ie or three, so he thinks. Last night at bedtime we're lying in his bed he has the best bed in the house I said Pook how many kids in your class now? and he said twenty, do you think you could make twenty THREE cookies? I said what are you KIDDING me I'm making sixty three. Turned to him and winked and gave him a squeezie. He turned over and we spooned a minute before I kissed him and turned off his lamp and snuck out of his bedroom. He was already snoring.
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2 comments:
what a great photo of the big boy!!!
could ya give him a squeeze for me please.
Gosh, he's so handsome!! (Read in Olive Oyl's voice.) I've always thought of 10 as a big birthday. It's like the first step away from "little boyhood" and moving on up to teenager before you know it. Hope his birthday was as special as the relationship between you two.
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