eight

A decade ago, when Ben turned eight, I started the tradition of taking 8th birthday photos with their instrument. Gabriel is our first guitarist and he's new at it-- he's playing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" in these photos.

I look back at those photos of Ben on the front porch with his violin and it seems like yesterday. I can remember his protests (much like Gabe's) of "why do you need pictures of me?" and the sweet strains of Bach he played after consenting. And because I know how quickly those years between 8 and 18 pass, today is bittersweet.

making a friend

Last year I posted a Gabriel list and wondered what might change:

1. sleeps with Baby Bear--oh yes

2. takes Jedi Training very seriously-- even more so

3. curls into my lap during family prayer--not every night, sadly

4. eats Frosted Mini Wheats every morning and carefully turns each square sugar-side up-- well, some things are a life-long habit, right?

5. sings and dances with wild abandon-- he's a soul brother

6. refuses fruit unless under great coercion-- at least he eats broccoli

7. insists on a chapter of Harry Potter every night-- now he reads it on his own!

8. is still the sweetest person to cuddle with on a cold morning

Baby Bear came in the car, but neither Gabe nor I remembered to include him in the photos. Which might mean Gabriel is moving on. Soon will come the days when Baby Bear lies abandoned under the bed and Gabe grows too big for my lap.

But here's my birthday promise to you sweet Gabriel: I'm not moving on. I promise to be as invested and involved with your years as I've been with your older brothers. I'm not going to burn out or get distracted. I'm enjoying the inestimable pleasure of being your mother.