Saturday, July 24, 2010


Nine is you, a jumble in your bed, with your blankets wrapped in a knot around your neck and your bare feet hanging out.

Nine is you, running through the yard, laughing with your friends.

Nine is you, with freckles dotting your face like so much cinnamon floating on cream.

Nine is you, with your infectious laugh, trying your best to make no noise while wrestling your brother when you should be in your bed.

Nine is you, picking peas off of the vine and popping them straight into your mouth and then grinning at me innocently.

Nine is you, red faced and sweaty, with your curls tightly kinked after being out in the evening jumping on the neighbor's trampoline.

Nine is you, stealing into my bedroom as I'm getting ready for bed, shyly telling me that you are frightened.

Nine is you, with trust in your eyes, listening to me explain away your fears.

Nine is you, gripping me tightly in a hug and whispering "you're the best mommy ever!"

Nine is you, stomping into your room and slamming your door, crying and yelling that I'm "so mean! The meanest mom ever!"

Nine is you, playing with your younger sister, even though you don't want to, because you told her you would.

Nine is you, begging your older brother to come outside and play because it's "more fun with him."

Nine is you, looking forward to school--but not so that any of your friends can hear you--so you can hang out with your buddies again.

Nine is you, tucking your hand into mine as we walk into church.

Nine is you, snuggling up next to me on the couch and asking me to run my fingers through your curls.

Nine is you, goggles on and nose plugged, doing cannonballs into the pool.

Nine is you, growing and moving and stepping away from me, but not too far--just as it should be.

Nine is you, full of laughter and love and joy and curls and freckles and fear and anger and generosity and trust.

And nine is me, marveling at you and all that you have become.

Happy birthday! I love you. You are my favorite Sean.

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