My handsome boy. You were born seven years ago on the day that the doctors guessed you would be here. It was a challenging pregnancy, my first round of post partum depression, and yet here you were, this handsome squalling little thing.

The past year has brought many things with you. Things like losing your first teeth, starting to learn to read. Getting your first CT scan.

Deciding not to STOP smashing rocks with a hammer, but deciding that you would definitely be more careful about it.

You are my surprising child. I can’t even count the times that you have shocked me with your perseverance, with your heart of gold. Son, I hope you keep that heart. The part that feels so deeply for everyone and everything around you. Your bravery at confronting an injustice, even when that might mean having anger turned on you.

I love how INTO things you get. “Great persevering!” is a refrain commonly heard in this house. From spending two hours in a break until you were ready to come and talk about what was done wrong, to spending hours building a lego model. A K’nex model. Colouring a picture. Building a fort in your room. Smashing rocks with hammers. Your perseverance in getting the job done is a great lesson to me as well. If it’s work doing, it’s worth spending the time on to do it right and to get it done. I love that about you.

We are just now figuring out some food and behaviour issues for you. It’s a tricky thing, because when you are happy? When you aren’t hungry and things are going well? You are the best kind of kid to be around. Cautiously willing to try just about anything, easy going. Helpful. But, when you are hungry and things are not just as you would like them to be? Then your rage is fearsome to watch. I hope and pray that we can figure this out so that you can be that sweet sweet boy all the time.

Oh Ephraim, you are the middle child. The only boy. I love to watch you as you figure things out in this world. You are so very black and white when it comes to rules. You don’t like anything that deviates from what you know to be truth. Not even in the slightest.

You hold me to my word. If I say I’m going to do something, you can darned well bet that you will be the one who gently reminds me of what I said.

I love you, handsome boy. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, and I can’t wait to see what the Lord has in store for you this year!

Love,
Momma

Ah Zi.  My wonderful and delightful first born.  As a baby you were so easy going…  slept well at night (albeit not during the day).  It seems like just yesterday I went into the hospital with what we thought were indigestion pains…  and now, now, I look at you, the young lady that you are, that you are becoming, and I am amazed, I am so thankful, and I am awed.

It’s so funny when I watch you, when you do things exactly the same way that I used to do them. Making your friends sweet little gifts that adults see as useless, gently intervening between fighting toddlers…

This year has brought a new side of you. Where before you were happy to romp around with the boys for hours and hours, you do tire of them after a little while now. Curling up to read, get a break from their “foolishness”. Even tho you may have been the instigator in whatever maniacal opportunity that has presented itself at that moment.  Climbing trees, floating in the spring full sandbox in a rubbermaid…

You are all girl, delicate frills, creative, bookworm, and yet, put you in the middle of a pile of mud, add some worms, and that is your element as well. I love your adaptability. I love how you walk to the beat of your own drummer, how you don’t care what others think of you. I love how you have no fear to tell someone, even your peers, when they are doing something that you think is wrong.

I love your tenacity. How even when you’re frustrated, you still keep at it. Going and going until you figure it out.  You do this with sewing, with knitting, and tonight, on your birthday, you even learned to spin.

I love your freedom and your joy in the Lord.  How you will talk about His love with just about anyone.  I love your acceptance, your simple faith in what is good and what is right.

I tell people all the time that you are “that” child. That you learn things easily. That you LOVE to learn. That once you saw that there were “words everywhere!” We could not hold you back if we had tried.

You take that will to learn in everything you do.  I watch you listening to your instructor carefully…  you try it, you fall, you just as simply get back up again and try it again.  It doesn’t seem to matter how often the fall happens, how many bruises there are, your determination will get you through.

You are the epitome of big sister. You love your siblings, and yet you hate them at the same time. You want to play with them, want to be with them, but you can turn on a dime and despise them. Screeching at them to get out of your room, leave you alone…

It’s getting hard to read you these days.  Where once a tickle fight was just about always welcome, now it may throw you into a fit… sending you screaming to your room to slam the door.  It’s a delicate balance, this hovering on the edge of womanhood.  You are mostly child, but you have one foot, one toe over the line.

“You know how it is, Mama.” You say, “You’re the oldest too.” And I do know. I know absolutely.

Eight is going to be a hard age, I think. For both of us. You are ready for more responsibility. A wee bit more freedom. I am not ready for you to be more than my baby, my wee little girl… To me, you are still that sweet baby, all ready to curl up in my arms. God made you to grow away from me… and that is the hardest part of being a parent. Learning when to let go.  Trusting that He will guide you, that He will protect you when you are away from the protective circle of your Daddy’s and my arms.

Learning when to let you turn the spindle on your own. Figuring out when to let you fall, only helping you up when you ask. Letting you make mistakes, and helping you figure out how to make those mistakes right.

When all I really want to do is hold you tight and protect you from all the woes of the world. All of that while at the same time letting you be a child.

I cannot wait to see what the world of eight is going to bring us!

And I am so very very glad that eight is not too old for spinning.

Love,
Mama

Ephraim, my one and only son, my firstborn boy, you are six years old.  SIX!  When did that happen?  When did you end up on the closer side to ten??  I feel like just yesterday I was in labour and giving birth to you.  Snuggling you in your newness…

And now?

Now you are this big… well. BOY.

You have attitude (you must get it from your father).

You are tenacious, you are strong, you are all boy.

You are always building things… anything. With sand, with lego, with blocks. If you’re not building, then you’re ripping things apart. Always with single minded intensity. When people ask your Daddy and I what kind of a hooligan you are, we always tell them that you bring a lot of intensity to the game. Once you are grown, I will always remember that about your childhood. Revel in it.

Within your intensity is that small boy you have always been, even though you get incredibly angry with me whenever I call you “little.” You screech with rolling eyes, “MaMA! I AM NOT LIT-TUL!” I can feel the rage roll off of you, the desire to be seen as big. Just more of your intensity.

My boy, while you are stubborn, while you are intense, you are in equal parts soft hearted and kind. Your heart is very very big, and you feel things very deeply.

You are quick to complement all the ladies in your life. Telling us we look nice. That we did a good job on something. Hugging us when we’re sad. I love it when you put your hand on my face and say that you love me.

Ah, Ephraim. You are not the first in our little family to turn six. But, you are my first experience with living, learning and growing with a six year old boy. You have turned my world upside down since that day six years ago when I first held you in my arms. I see the beauty in the world through YOUR eyes. The way you see how you can make this into that, and that into this. How much better it would be if we could just smash that thing over there to tiny bits and burn it up.

I love how easy it is to make your entire day wonderful. Surprising you with cake for breakfast…

I love that you said this was the best birthday ever, when all we did was spend the day with you. When all we did was let you choose what we were going to do with your day.

I love that the simple castle blocks your Daddy made you could be coated in gold you love them that much.

I love that you told me just a few days before you turned six that you would never be too big or too old to snuggle me. I love that you told me that while curled up in my lap, your hand buried in my hair.

Happy Birthday, darling son. You will never be too old or too big for me to snuggle either.

There are so many things about SEVEN. New things, old things. Seven is grown up. Seven is no longer a child. And yet at the same time, seven IS a child and seven is NOT grown up.

Seven is determined.

Seven is friendships with boys and girls.

Seven is creative.

Seven is being a big sister, and always having someone copy you.

Seven is learning how to read, and being able to do it well enough to read to your friends.

Seven is silly.

Seven is getting your ears pierced.

Seven is being shy. Being vulnerable. Seven is feelings that are easily hurt. Seven is the gateway to growing up.

Most of all? Seven is beautiful. And I wouldn”t change her for anything.