Jersey Boy

Y'all. I am still trying to process this whole SEVEN YEARS OLD thing. Trying. Failing. Because OH MAN was he small and spindly and bald and perfect.

And no bigger, really, than the numbers on his daddy's jersey. But then. Just. This happened. I maintain that the jersey has shrunk considerably.

And he's still kind of small (35% for height according to a growth website--his check up isn't until the middle of August) and spindly (31% for weight) and perfect except for this new defiant streak I'm not exactly enjoying. Of course, he's anything but bald these days.

But then, he's also just so very big, comparatively speaking.

It boggles the mind. How can he be 47 inches tall and weigh 47 pounds and run and swim and surf? 

My aunt recently pointed out to me that he's a third of the way to a whole grown-up man who can drink and gamble. I think I could have gone the next fourteen years without thinking about that.

But it is what it is.

My boy is practically all grown up already.