Five, Seven and Nine

I guess I'm feeling nostalgic lately.  Or always.

The other day Mark and I were walking along, he nearly as tall as me.  He said, "I feel grown up lately."  He had just procured $2 from my wallet and bought himself a hotdog and soda to be consumed while I shopped at Costco.  He was feeling pretty pleased with himself and his autonomy.

Him crowing about being grown makes me want to demand that he slow down and possibly revert to a past time:

Pretty please, Mark?

He is grown up lately though.  He is my adviser in many things.  He knows where every tool is kept and can always find a fresh battery when needed.  In the absence of Adam, he provides tech support. He is full of opinions and would be very happy to plan my days for me.  I can't imagine my life when he goes to school.

(And I have a pretty good imagination.)

It wasn't all roses when he was little though.

We were at Ikea on a recent errand and I remembered how it was when he was five and I would take him to Ikea.

He was very cute:

 

But every time I took him to Ikea, I would check him into the playland and then they would page me because he was being kicked out of the playland.  (Usually for fighting and general wildness.)  They finally said that if it happened one more time he could no longer go there.

It was a really happy time.

So Mark not getting kicked out of the Costco food court while I shop is an improvement.

And improvements are good.

One of my favorite Braeden stories isn't too much of a story but a tiny little moment in time.  He had some camouflage shorts when he was about seven, which excited him.  He put them on and ran out the front door.  At that time there were woods in front of our house.  He stood in front of the trees.  "Can you see me?" he yelled.

It was Braeden in a nutshell.  He has more enthusiasm than any ten kids you could find.

seven year old Braeden

Last Saturday night it was about 9:00 and we were sprawled on couches in semi comatose states watching Larkrise to Candleford, which Braeden has proclaimed the most chilled out show in the world (and I think he's right).  One of Braeden's friends called for him and wanted him to come over.  Braeden sprung from the couch, negotiated a curfew and changed from his pajamas back into his jeans and was out the door before any of the rest of us knew what hit us.

He's Braeden and I just try to keep up.

One of my favorite Emma memories is when she was nine and we went to London.  Braeden was on that trip too but I remember Emma.  I loved seeing the magical Northern lights with my girl as we flew through the night sky and I remember her hopscotching her way across London.  She was delighted with the cobblestones and brick walkways and the perfect way they provided a hopscotch grid.

hopscotching one night after a concert at St Paul's Cathedral

I tried to get her to stop because it isn't always efficient or convenient to hopscotch your way across London.  I was unsuccessful though.  And that is Emma.  She's her own girl.  She'll hopscotch if she wants.

Try to stop her.