I’m having a hard time pulling up the words to adequately express my feelings about Gryffin’s birthday this year. Seven seems so stretched out. His limbs are gangly and long, his teeth wobbly and his feet much too big for his body. It’s not just bodily, though. Tonight on the phone with his grandparents, he said, “I’m sure looking forward to seeing you soon,” before hanging up while Jason and I gaped at him. When did he start using phrases like that?
Six has always sat at the outer reaches in my imagination. Six is the end of the A.A. Milne poem, “Now I am Six.” Six is the final gasp of something flitting and ethereal.
Seven stretches beyond that unnameable space and while I feel exhilarated by the way Gryffin is tugging and pulling outward with the entirety of his being, I’m also tonight feeling a profound painfulness as he runs headlong into the future while Jason and I sweep up the remnants of the birthday balloons.
It hurts watching your kids grow, this much I know. Sometimes it feels like the only thing I know about being a parent.
But it sure is fun, too. Look at this guy!
Happy Birthday, Snacks. We do love you so.