the mighty fine nine

liam is now nine.  he celebrated the last single-digit birthday he'll ever have on the 14th, and it's taken me this long to process it.  i've wondered how i should describe him in my annual birthday post, and while pondering, took a look back at what i've written in the past.  (his eighth birthday is here.  his seventh, here.  his sixth, here.  his fifth, here.  his fourth, here -- which is my favorite, because it includes a video of that sweet, chubby-cheeked little boy of ours blowing out his candles.)

and what i realized, after reading and remembering, is that he really hasn't changed that much in the last year.  those first few years of life move at lightning speed, with every day bringing new accomplishments and developments and achievements.  but from eight to nine, i think he's just been refining.  improving more in the areas of his interest (sports and math and reading) and learning to tolerate better those that are not (art and tying of shoes and eating vegetables.)  to be honest, aside from the move to his new school, what i wrote a year ago still, for the most part, applies today.  so what was i to really say?  and then, a brief event happened just yesterday between him and me and i immediately thought, you know, all i have to do is share this story.  it just summed him up perfectly, in a two-minute timeframe.

he and i had gotten home after school and he was eager to show me several of his pieces of work he had brought home.  (among my favorite: a worksheet about being perfect, as part of a lesson in language arts about how everyone makes mistakes.  one of the last questions was, "do you know anyone who is perfect?  if so, what makes them perfect?"  and his answer: "Jesus.  because He is the only person who has never sinned.")

after we went through his paperwork, i realized it was time to walk to the bus stop to pick up susanna.  "wait!" he said.  "i think i'll get a clipboard and bring some of my math homework to work on, since we don't know exactly when she'll be getting there."  after he had also grabbed a pencil, we started walking up the cul-de-sac.

and then, out of the blue, he says, "i'm so glad you're my mommy." i smiled, touched at the spontaneity of his statement.  "and i'm REALLY glad you met daddy.  because i think you both are awesome ... "he paused, laughing.  "and because if you hadn't met, well, there wouldn't be me!" 

and what a different world that would be -- a world without our sweet son, who is so well described by this story, in a myriad of sort of random ways that all tie together to make him, well, him.  he's thoughtful, and loving, and kind.  he loves and knows God and Jesus.   he's responsible and hard-working and smart.  and he's funny and goofy too.

he's our liam, and we are so proud to call him ours.  he's divine ... and he's nine!

running out of room for the candles -- but at least i had the correct number this time (see his fourth birthday post)

the plan had been to take his four best friends (most of whom he's known for half his life) to the carolina railhawks (professional soccer) game ... but it was a wash-out.  we switched gears and went bowling instead.  five boys is really the perfect number

always the serious athlete, when we took him to adventure landing, he actually brought his golf glove to play putt-putt

after losing in a go-kart race to susanna and me, the boys were still all smiles. (this is why i love being the blogger in the family -- chris would like to think they won, but he ain't the one at the computer)

crazy how full-circle life can be ... on his first birthday, we served dirt cake with gummy worms at his party.  and now, eight years later, we took him to celebrate at a local restaurant -- and their birthday dessert was none other than dirt cake