My son is seven today.
What the Bible says about seven.
Seven is a powerful number in the Bible. The number 7 depicts completion and perfection. The special emphasis placed on this number, by God, is evident throughout Scripture. From Genesis with creation which took seven days, right through to Revelation (seven letters to seven churches, etc) . God’s number is SEVEN.
Seven = completion / perfection / wholeness
What your mother says about seven
Six was a hard year for you. I guess that’s because five was a really cool year where you dangled so cutely on that precipice of babyhood with your feet ever so slightly skimming the waters of true boyhood. Five year olds are like puppies. They are cute, precocious, loved to be loved and do things that constantly make you laugh. They ask awesome questions and they love to learn. I truly believe it’s a magical year to prepare parents and to soften the blow for the angst of six years old. At 6, you were really trying to find yourself. Maybe it was Grade R in a new school. Maybe it was because you were truly cognizant of good / evil, right / wrong, mistakes / on-purpose, for the first time in your life. At 6 years old, you knew how to tell lies, and tell them well. You challenged me on every level and there was lots of tears from both of us. It was the first time I caught a glimpse of teenage Liam and I didn’t always like him. But as you and I have wrestled and tussled this past year, I’ve uncovered layers of you that I didn’t know were there before. Layers that just need nurturing and correction. Just like a young sapling needs a stake to guide and support it for that period of time before it grows and flourishes on its own, so do young, wild, spirited young boys need their moms to keep them on the straight and narrow. So I think 7 is going to be the year of completion, the year of perfection and the year of wholeness for you. As you come into your own, as you grow more independent, as my apron strings give you more slack to soar, I’m excited to see where you go from here. Your budding wit and sarcasm brings me much delight. Your slick come-backs and quirky retorts infuriate and excite me all at the same time. Your deep analysis and wondering thoughts on why the sky is blue or why boys don’t need to sleep with underpants but girls must sleep with panties, make me wonder what sort of thesis you will write one day. You’re crazy. Like me. You’re a joker . Like me. You cry easily. Like me. You whine and complain. Like your father. Jokes. You have an answer for everything. There’s no topic you know nothing about. Yet. You are so shy. This complete contradiction endears you to me even more. You will not run up to your teacher in the shopping mall and say hello. You will not sing in public, even for money. You will not take part in the school talent show. I know this because the form came home last week and your eyes popped out of your head at the thought of getting up on the stage and doing something alone in front of a crowd. You do not like the dark. You do not like any part of your body to be uncovered when you’re sleeping. You love riding your bike, and positively detest playing cricket. You eat anything and everything and you’re constantly hungry. You love fart jokes still, you love irritating your sister until she cries, then crying when she doesn’t want to play with you. Go figure. You are everything I’d hoped for in a son. You are perfect.
Physically, there isn’t a trace of my little boy anymore. It’s just muscle and long skinny bones and big jagged-edged permanent teeth. Emotionally, I’ve had to learn from scratch how to deal with you. Hugging, kissing and talking it out is not how 7 year olds necessarily deal with things. And this is new ground for me. I’ve had to say I’m sorry on many occasions as you teach me everyday that my way is not always the best way. As a mother to small children, you assume the role of leader and the children must follow. But now I see that as your children get older, the lines of teacher versus student are often blurred. It’s a wonderful and daunting space to be in.
What you say about seven
You still think the earth and everything in it revolves around you. I don’t know that this is a 7 year old thing, or a MALE thing. Sigh. You told me that you’re big now and I shouldn’t even get out of the car at school drop off. BOY, STOP TALKING CRAZY NOW. You also said that I should give you more responsibility. I said OK, why don’t you start by taking out the garbage. That apparently is not what you had in mind. You have asked if you can let go of the booster seat in the car. I still haven’t given you a definite answer on that one. You want to know when you can get a phone. As if. You have asked me stop giving you a teaspoon with your cereal because you aren’t a baby anymore. Oh, you also don’t want me writing too much about you on the Internet and you want to vet any photos before posting. Fair enough.
Happy birthday my darling. I maintain that loving you is easy because you’re so wonderful. I love being your mom. It is by far the greatest and most rewarding thing I have and will ever do in this life.
ps: I hate guns, I’ve never bought you a toy gun, and fighting games almost always get you into trouble. But for the sake of posterity, let it be known that on your 7th birthday, I bought you that Nerf Gun you wanted so badly, ONLY because I wanted to see you lose your mind this morning. And you did. And it made me so happy 🙂