For me, each kid in my family has an age that I identify them with. An age that for whatever reason, gets stuck in my brain. For Keaton that age is 3-4ish so to wake up this morning and find him a whole SEVEN years old is really messing with my brain’s construct of what my world should look like. I honestly have no clue how we got here. How did that sweet, funny, pigtail-sporting, tutu-wearing, booty-shaking toddler morph into this hard-working, sword-wielding, ninja-rolling, BOY?
To quote one of his favorite movies: Inconceivable.
Keaton is no one thing. He is not a kid that you can put in a box. He loves swords and rough-housing, and nail-polish and his stuffed Crookshanks. He’ll happily watch a Barbie movie or Star Wars. He is sensitive and kind. He is mischievous and a fairly adept liar.
He is joy. He is love. He is ours and we love him so very much.
Happy Seven, Keaton Sir!!
To me, Robbie will always be 3, so it blows my mind every time I realize he’s turning 5 next month. They need to stop growing, damn it.
Also, happy seven, Keaton!