My baby is seven today.
Which I know doesn't make him a baby anymore...
I know someone else is thinking the same thing today.
Her baby is seven today too.
My baby is her baby is my baby.
My baby is adopted.
Seven years ago.
I saw him come out and from that moment he was my baby.
He was still someone else's baby and in a way he always will be.
He asks about her sometimes.
But he's my baby.
I'm not trying to be possessive. It is what it is.
I wonder if she thinks, hopes, prays, and dreams for him.
I think, hope, pray and dream for her.
Because I am so thankful.
My baby is turning seven today.
My little boy, who looks nothing like me, but understands me, loves me, hugs me and let's me know how thankful he is for me.
And I am so, so very thankful for my little boy -
Who was loved so deeply, he was given as a most precious gift.
Jaron at Seven
Kind hearted, joyful, little nugget jumping off this and that
Running straight into my arms at super sonic speed because that's the only speed you know
Question asker, truth seeker
Understander of justice, burgeoning genius, lover of people
Hard hitter, go getter
Tan little muscle man
Gentle soul with an exterior of force
Zipping here and there - literally and in your mind -
Thought provoker, joy bringer
Patience elevator, tenacious player
Dear son, beloved brother
What's the most precious gift you've received?
What would you add to the "Jaron at Seven" list?