Monday, July 27, 2009

the summer of almost seven years old

I've been looking at the Pie a lot lately and am just stunned by (1) how utterly good-looking he is and (2) he is turning 7 at the end of next month.

I've allowed him to grow his hair for the summer, with the agreement that he would cut it before his birthday, which is a week before he goes to school. He doesn't like having messy hair when he is going to school but I've always wanted to see what he would look like if we let the sweet curls keep growing. He's got these little curly bits around his ears and his handsome face is framed by this thick, black, wavy hair. It emphasizes his deep, dark eyes and I cannot get over how I will have to beat the pretty girls and boys off with big sticks in a few years.

He is so tall and thin. He's so strong and so very unaware of his own strength. He's not skinny-thin (okay, maybe a little) but muscular and wiry. His basic yoga and gym training has him contorting himself into all kinds of positions and mostly giving me a heart attack.

I find it so hard to believe he is getting so big. He was in my arms, a cute, little, fatty baby. He was set on one hip as I did my thing in the kitchen. He said things like "chooch it, mama chooch it" when he saw ants, making the onomatopaeic sound of the Baygon. And no matter how many times I said, and he repeated, "cu-cum-ba", he put it together as "cumbaba", a pronunciation I love to this day. A cucumber can never be anything else.

I remember watching him taking that first step into his second step, all by himself. Him walking towards me, all wobbly and triumphant as I clapped and clapped. I rocked him on my chest every single night so he would fall asleep. He still likes that, but he is so heavy now, I can barely breathe when he lies on top of me.

Now he says things like "Daddy, how do you spell absurd?" and "Well, you weren't specific," and "I used that strategy" that leaves us dumbfounded. We lie in bed at night, repeating what he has said to us over the years. When we moved in together, even after he wore us out all day, we would lie in bed talking about him. It's not so surprising to me anymore.

He still likes to stick up under me when he is sitting on the sofa. Unfortunately, a couple of days before my period, I cannot bear to be touched and this only happened after he was born. Sad, but I feel so suffocated when he comes and jams his thigh under mine. I cannot help it, so he gives me two inches of space and I have to be content. He cannot help it either.