My Son is ELEVEN.

Yesterday my son turned 11.  I know everyone says they don’t know where the time goes, but seriously.  I DON’T KNOW WHERE THE TIME GOES.

Eleven sounds like such a big number, but he’s still a little boy in so many ways.  He still hugs me in public and gets teary-eyed when he’s frustrated or embarrassed.  When I go in to kiss him goodnight, his cheeks are still soft and smooth like a baby’s.  I tease him that it won’t be too awful long before I go to kiss him goodnight and I find sideburns and whiskers.

I asked him recently if he’ll still hug me when he’s as tall as I am, and he shrugged and said, “I dunno.”  I suppose that’s an honest answer.

Yesterday was a crazy day because I was at the Wise Traditions Conference in the morning and at Wegmans after that.  I managed to bake his cake before leaving for the conference, so when I got home all I had to do was frost it.  We had a quick cake-and-presents ceremony before leaving for evening church.

Somehow we didn’t get cake shots, we were in such a rush.  But his real birthday party is scheduled for this weekend, so I’ll get a second chance.  We are having our first ever sleepover party.  {Hold me.}  That’s true mother’s love right there.

Here’s wishing a happy, happy birthday to my Little Man!