Nine is just fine

I've never been overly impressed with the "six" year of any given decade. Nothing against them - it's just that they were always one year before or one year after something really cool happened. 1985: my baby sister was born. 1987: I turned 10. 1986: just bleh. 1995: I graduated from high school. 1997: I started dating my love. 1996: just bleh. 2005: Mr. '97 and I got married. 2007: We bought our first house. 2006: WAIT! FIRST BABY WAS BORN! NOT BLEH AT ALL! (Although, on days when he wouldn't stop screaming even for a gulp of air, I was totally wishing for some bleh.)

The little guy who finally made a "six year" worth something!

So now, as the calendar has turned to 2016, my initial reaction was to be like, "Oh, a "six" year? Bleh. Nothing much to see here."  Except that, a minute later, I was like, "Oh, holy hell! Wait a minute! 2006 was a big deal, which means that 2016 is just as exciting!"  Because my "baby" boy, the one whose socks are now confused with mine in the laundry, is turning ten this year. Double digits, my friends! It's the only major digit change in this boy's life until he reaches the big 1-0-0! (Which his children had better celebrate grandly, so help me.)

But here's a secret: I'm sort of wishing we could just pause here for a bit. Because nine is not bleh. Nine is charming. Nine is sweetness and sass, both in manageable amounts. Ten scares me. Ten looks way too much like middle school and girls and the reality that is hours of homework and friends doing crazy things. But nine? Nine is just fine, thank you very much. And nine is all mine.

Nine rushes downstairs in the morning to check SportsCenter, but does it clutching blankie in the remote control hand.

Nine tries to cuddle and nuzzle in for a hug, but almost tips me over doing it with the force of a wild boar.

Nine believes in all the magic of the world but all the rationality of the times tables in equal parts.

Nine wants to swim out to the deep end to do tricks, but wants me to watch each and every one.

Nine wants to go to school to see his friends, but runs off the bus and into my car every day back to our safe cocoon.  

Nine loves Sponge Bob, but still laughs at Sesame Street.

Nine loves me in all of its single digit glory.

I really hope that ten doesn't come along and tell him that loving his mommy is "so last decade." And when he hits the triple digits in another far-off, not-so-bleh six year? I hope that third digit wants a hug from me just as badly. Wherever I am, I'll be waiting for it.

~ {p.s.} ~

I sometimes wonder where this little face has gone to...

but then this guy wants to cuddle and read a story, and I suddenly see that it's been right there this whole time.