There is something magical about the number seven. It’s a beautiful mix of independence and innocence. A stage where you are no longer a baby, yet not a teen. It’s an age where you are still little and sweet. An age where you still need us, but not like you used to.
At seven, you can start showers and get breakfast ready. You can read the Children’s Menu and order for yourself. You can walk the dog and even pick up the poop. You can give the baby a snack when he screams from the back seat of the car, and you can tell your little brother which shoe goes on which foot when he gets it wrong each morning.
At seven you can wait your turn. You won’t have a meltdown because you got the blue cup instead of the pink. You try to do what is right. You ask questions about the world and tell horrible knock-knock jokes. You giggle. And giggle some more. Seven feels easier.
And seven still believes in magic, and Santa Clause and the tooth fairy. Eyes still light up over jack-o-lanterns, Christmas lights, and new adventures. Pure, genuine excitement. Your innocence still burns bright.
Seven still craves snuggles and kisses and even reaches for hands. Seven will sneak into your lap and blows kisses as they head into school. Seven wants so much to be big but still desires to be your baby.
At seven, I am still your favorite person. You want me to chaperone field trips and be the mystery reader in class. All you want is to make me proud.
And yet seven is an age where you are beginning to realize that life is a little complicated. You want to fit in and have a ponytail like JoJo Siwa.
I am slowly seeing bits and pieces of that little baby leaving and catching glimpses of the young person you are blossoming into. Your legs are longer. Your face is less round. And somehow we introduced deodorant to your morning routine. Wow. Seven. How did we get here?
And I can’t help but think about what comes next. What will I miss? When will you stop looking at me with such love and admiration? When will you reject my goodbye hugs? When will you choose friends over family? I know it’s going to come someday and probably someday soon.
So when I catch a glimpse of you being absolutely adorable or when our eyes lock in a moment where we are laughing or connecting, I will try to take it all in, and I will remind myself that someday soon, I will miss all the questions and the smothering kisses. I will miss you needing me and the way you call me “Mama.”
My God, Seven. Boy, do I love you! Life is still simple. Parenting isn’t as complicated. There is just something magical about the number seven. And I’m trying to savor it all.
