My oldest son turned seven yesterday. This year I decided to wait until after his birthday to do any holiday decorating. I worry that his birthday always gets lost in Christmas busyness; I worry that he, as my least squeaky wheel, appears to require less attention. But appearances can hide a different truth. He doesn’t always say out loud the thing he wants, or needs. It’s my job to figure it out and give it to him, anyway. It’s my job to make sure we make a big enough deal about his birthday that he feels loved and appreciated and adored. I went into his bedroom to say goodnight to him last night; his dad had already read to him, he was listening to an audiobook, eyes closed, but still awake. I climbed up on his bed and curled up next to his warm little body. “I am so lucky to know you,” I told him. He opened his eyes and smiled, that twinkly, mischievous smile of his. Everybody who knows that boy is the better for it, I am sure of that. He is a good friend, he is helpful and funny and strong. He has a moral core like steel, his sense of justice and truth- so solid. He is such a good boy. He deserved to have a birthday all his own, without trying to celebrate under the shadow of Christmas.
So today we get our tree! What great picture synchronicity, yes?