And Then He Was Eight

The blog has been silent, as you probably well know.  I am nothing if not sporadic.  Humor my excuses while I plead "impossible three year old" and "crawling baby."  Mind you, I love them both dearly and plan on keeping them for at least another fifteen and seventeen years, respectively.  However, Samuel's continuous (adjective meaning without interruption) battles of the will, coupled with Daniel's extrications from tight spots do not make for easy blogging moments.  Frankly, come bedtime, I'm BEAT by the battles and the chase!

Somewhere between changing thousands of diapers and finishing our third baseball season, James turned eight.  Two thousand, nine hundred twenty-one days ago (not counting leap year accumulation), our ten-pound first born came squalling into this world, only to be immediately soothed by his Papa's crib-side coos.  At eight, he still squalls, but now his cries more resemble a passionate and opinionated big boy, battling for air time and bragging rights with his three brothers and rather talkative mother.  And he is still calmed by his Papa's voice and proximity.  Some things never change.  I can say for certain that I cannot account for all of the time that has passed, although I do feel that we have squeezed quite a lot of life and love out of these last eight years.  Fast-forward eight years down the line, we'll have a teenage boy with a driver's license.  One thing is for certain: the longer I live, the more I want to slow down the dial.  So, here's to today, and to every blessed tomorrow we are granted.

Poolside Circus Performers

Juggling Joshua

Cannonballer James

Party Time
Little Boy Table

Buds
Big Boy Table

Baby Table

7 Boys In A Baby Pool

...Gone Wild

Present Peeking

It's Alive
(cue screams from Mama)

Setting Up The Bowl
(Fish Update:  3 Eulogies Later...)

Happy Birthday To You
(He blew the candles out waaaaay before the final strains...Do the wishes count?)

Later That Night

Dream Gift For An Aspiring Pilot