Simon turned 9 last week. Nine. Like, one year away from 10. Almost a decade. Can you hear the disbelief in my voice?
I feel like his childhood is getting away from me and before we know it he’ll be all grown and I’ll be full of regrets about who knows what.
But he’s not there yet, so we’ll do our best to take advantage of the time we have left.
We went off the beaten path with this birthday and let Simon pick a friend to do something fun with instead of having the kind of birthday party we normally do. He decided to go climbing and he totally crushed it. It turns out he’s a natural. (Surprise? The list of things he’s naturally good at seems to keep growing . . . .) And he loved it.
While Micah was off with Simon at the climbing gym, I was busy trying to make his Harry Potter dreams come true. Simon is as into Harry Potter as the next kid, and he wanted the Hogwarts coat of arms on his cake. His wish=my command. So I did my best and he seemed pleased. Phew! (And if someone can teach me how to not mess up buttercream, I’d be ever so grateful.)
So that’s that. We have a 9-year-old. And he’s a good one: a great big brother, a talented pianist, a rockin’ climber, a loyal friend, a conscientious student, a dutiful son, an eager student, and an easy laugher, among other things. It seems like a good age, and he’s a good kid.