Now He Is Seven

I'm not really sure why I'm feeling so quiet on this, the occasion of my son's seventh birthday. We had a perfectly wonderful day--the Southern California rains stopped just long enough for us to have his golf-themed party outside (a true miracle, since it rained up until this morning and then started again within half an hour after the last guest left), everyone who was invited to the party (no, nobody from his class at school) showed up and seemed to have fun, and N was just...perfectly wonderful and perfectly normal. WeeyumWise's mom--who's been at every one of N's birthday parties, except, perhaps, for the first one (though maybe that one too; my memory is Not Good)--said it was the happiest she's ever seen him at a party, and the most comfortable.

And maybe that's why I'm so quiet. It's not that I'm at a loss for words regarding my favorite boy in the world, but that I talk so much about him so often, and today was just happy and comfortable and normal--the kind of day that doesn't really require talking and analyzing and obsessing.

My baby turned 7 today, and he had a party, and there were friends and games and presents and laughter and cake. It was perfectly wonderful.

[I made the cake and the cupcakes, and everything on them is edible. What you can't see is that the pretzel-and-fruit-rollup flags each have the number 7 written on them in frosting. It was no treasure-chest cake--nothing will ever beat that one--but it turned out really nicely, I thought.]