(I titled the post this because Isaac had a classic Pooh nursery when he was a baby, with blue and white cloud walls. It was pretty cool!)
Well, he did it.
Isaac turned eleven on June 28th.
Eleven. It seems so much . . . older than ten.
First of all, it's just a bigger word.
It seems like time just bulleted by.
I remember when he was born so vividly.
To read his story, see the July 1, 2008 post.
Eleven years. It really doesn't seem possible, and I find myself panicking sometimes. Have we used our time with him wisely and well? What do we have to do in the time we have left to help mold him into who he is to be?
In case you couldn't tell, I could do with some more faith in my life.
Really, he's just a great kid, and more than trying to make him something, I've just really enjoyed who he is. He has brought so much joy and laughter and quiet childlike wisdom . . . and plenty of loud rambunctious boy-ness to our lives.
This year, we celebrated with his friends by taking them for an afternoon of laser tag and arcade fun.
We celebrated with family on his actual birthday. His wish list this year was so different from what it has been in years past. While it still had the ever present Lego request, it also had things like dirt bikes and cell phones. Yikes. He did not get either, by the way. But he sure was trying to sell us on the cell phone idea. My mom always teases him that he will grow up to be either a lawyer or a hostage negotiator. He sure can make a good argument.
He started young.
I remember, when he was turning three -- three --, before my mom and dad moved here, they sent his gifts early, but asked I wait until his birthday to let him open them. That was a few days away, and to quell any frustration that might arise from seeing his gifts and not being able to open them, I stashed them up on a high bookcase where he could not see them.
Well, that didn't work.
He was standing on the couch one afternoon, two days from his birthday, and he spotted them.
Immediately it started, but not the nagging "Please, mommy! Please." business.
"Are those mine?"
"Yes, they are."
"I can open them?"
No. I explained that he would have to wait just a few days, and he went to work, reasoning with me.
He sat on the couch, quiet for a minute, thinking.
"Mom, the clock says three, so I can open them now?"
Indeed it did.
"No, not yet." I replied and smiled.
"You have to be three, not the clock."
More silent thinking.
"Mom, can I open three gifts now because I'm gonna be three?"
"No, darling. We need to wait until your birthday, and then you can open them all."
More and more silent thinking.
"Mom, I'm already three. Jesus just told me I am. He just made me three right now. So I can open my gifts now?"
There it was -- the Jesus card.
Who can argue with that?
I looked at him with amazement and amusement and wonder.
There was no whining, no crying, no begging, no pleading. Just two -- almost three -- year old reasoning.
Sometimes, this tendency in him makes things difficult. But I know it is there for a reason.
Having him, having all my boys, has changed my life in profound and miraculous ways. They have all been so worth every moment of the having them.
I love you Isaac. Here's to your eleventh year of life in this great, wide world. May it be as wonderful as you are.
3 comments:
That story about him pleading to open his gifts is priceless!
I can not believe that my little brother is ELEVEN!!!!!
Great times.....great memories...
Just one little thing - you now need to update Isaac's age in your "about me" section.
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