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happy birthday

my boy turned nine today.

he is my little genius. he represents my sweetest successes, my biggest failures. he carries my love of reading, my hatred of math, my messy kid tendencies, my bad allergy genes. he wears my grumpy silence, my barely controlled rages, my sulks, my sorrows, my joys. his giggles are contagious. he sings bad pop songs in a piping little boy voice.

he is almost my height. i can squeeze my feet into his shoes. his hands are simultaneously big and small.

"i think that's great," he deadpans as we try to sleep, four people squished into a queen-sized bed.

he calls himself a preteen (but not a tween). technically, he's right, but... i'm not ready for that. not truly. he invited girls to his birthday party. i'm not truly ready for that, either. by his age i already knew that i'd marry cam.

he's part baby, part adult, all anachronism. too old to be young in this time, too young to be old elsewhere.

where do you belong?

i hope you soon find your world, your community, your people.

but please let me enjoy your childhood dependence a little bit longer.

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