Ha, I thought I was tired that day.
Then here you were.
I thought I was ready to go home from the hospital that day.
Then you were one.
We thought it was right to encourage you to be mobile.
Then you were two.
Then you were three.
And you were busy.
I really was tired.
And then you were four.
And, dang if you weren't cute.
And then you turned five.
That fateful birthday where I must not have felt too tired because I made those dang cakes.
And then you were six.
I think this is the last time that beautiful hair was really clean because I think we turned you over to self-bathing soon after this.
Seven, I have real little boys.
Real little boys who take soft stones into the car and spend two hour road trips making them into loose chalk for drawing on the windows.
I must not have been so very tired because I made it out of bed to have breakfast with you that morning.
I'm so incredibly taken back by nine.