As I tucked J into bed this evening I realised that this would be the very last time that I’d settle him to sleep as a seven-year old. Come tomorrow morning our little man turns eight years old and whilst it won’t feel massively different for J, as his Mother I cannot help but to feel slightly on edge as I watch another year slip by.
J has come on leaps and bounds throughout this past year especially in terms of his school work. It’s been a tough year really with one thing or another and yet J has shown incredible strength and resilience.
J is a loving, kind, caring and passionate boy who has a lust for life. Over the past few months he has built incredible patience, empathy and understanding which I am forever overwhelmed by.
Whilst J once found things rather challenging he is learning to overcome life’s little difficulties with a sense of humour and a willingness to give almost anything a shot. I couldn’t be prouder if I tried.
I can barely believe that eight years ago to this day I was huffing and puffing on the gas and air, swearing like a sailor and begging for a c-section which they still didn’t give me. How on earth have eight years passed by so bleeding quickly?
My sweet, slightly cheeky little seven-year old is now sound asleep unaware of the balloons being blown up, the banners being hung and the presents being stacked downstairs ready for the morning.
I may have forgotten the helium balloon which I will rectify first thing tomorrow morning but I’ve cooked and decorated the cake, I’ve wrapped the parcels, sealed the cards, filled the party bags and I am just about ready to rock being a Mummy to an eight year old.
Sweet dreams my little seven-year old sunshine you make me happy when skies are grey