Ten was such a milestone for him - he really wanted to get into that double digits. Despite the build up, ten has seemed pretty inconsequential. Just another year gone by.
But for me, for me, eleven is huge. Eleven means he is just two year away from being a teenager. Eleven means he is seven years away from graduating from high school!
I've never really been one of those people that wanted my kids to stay babies forever. Babies are so much work - they need you so much. In my rush to let them grow up and get into that more independent age, I kind of forgot that it keeps on going. That they keep growing in the desire to flex those I can do it on my own muscles.
No I didn't want him to be a newborn forever, or two, or even five or six. But couldn't he have stayed nine forever? Or even ten?
Evidently not, because the calendar is telling me otherwise.
Here is to eleven years with this crazy, amazing, I have no idea what I'm doing, we probably need more therapy, you crack me up kid.
Happy Birthday, Connor!
And maybe, just maybe, slow down for your momma. Okay?
