Sunday, February 28, 2010

Eight? Really?

My son is eight. EIGHT. Do you hear me, internet? I can. not. be old enough to have an eight year old. But look at him.

He's just such a giant boy. He has big gangly feet, and dirty fingernails most of the time, and he reads his books all sprawled out on the couch, oblivious to the world around him. He talks about science without pausing for breath for large chunks of time. He often rolls his eyes. But two minutes later, he's reading "The Extraordinary Adventures of Ordinary Basil" out loud to his brother for an hour. Or having tea on the floor with his baby sister. Gah. I could just eat him up. Except for the fact that he's way too cool to let me. But just today, he let me grab his hand while we were crossing the parking lot. Gulp. Savor it now, self.

And of course, there was a party. A first time ever sleep-over party. Oh yeah. Us, and six oreo-fuled, chocolate cake-crazed, gummy snake-gobbling little boys. There was cake, of course:

And HILARIOUS conversations, and silly faces, and nerf gun ambushes:

and it's never a party without presents:

including a fancy big-guy bike, with gears and shocks and all kinds of schmancy gadgets that an eight-year old boy can love:

and there may or may not have been some sleeping bag stair sliding races - but I'm not sayin' either way:

Mmmmmm. We love us some stair sliding at the Butler household. And we love us some 8 year old, stinky boy, sleepover fun. Between some indoor camping and a big batch of daddy-made pancakes in the morning, we slept (a bit), fed them, and sent them home, all hopped up on homemade oreos and little boy craziness. A good time had by all.

1 comment:

Tracey said...

please tell him to stop growing up so fast!!!


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