Monday, November 17, 2008

Seven.


My beautiful boy. Is seven.

I vividly remember looking at the clock on the wall of the hospital room just before he was born. Wondering, I suppose, when he was going to make his appearance. And quite an appearance it was. Ten pounds, four ounces. And yet so tiny to me.

Now, he is over four feet tall and weighs 60 pounds. He answers the doctor's questions at his check-up by himself, without my help.

But I can still get him to snuggle with me on the couch to watch TV under a blanket. Just like we did seven years ago.

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