Grey is 8 – how did that happen?

Last night, I kissed my seven year old goodnight. This morning, I wished a cheery good morning to an eight year old. Yes, Grey is now eight. As in, halfway to a driver’s license.

For Grey’s 8th birthday, I took him and two of his friends to Canobie Lake Park – a regional amusement park of reasonable proportions. Together, they added up to one 21 year old. It was actually an awesome age to bring the kids to an amusement park. They were old enough to go on real rides with, and old enough that I wasn’t worried about them bolting/getting lost/needing help in the bathroom… but they were young enough that very often I would find a hand still trustingly holding mine – often not my son’s. Old enough to go, young enough to still want me to be there. I am enjoying every minute of that, I assure you.

Pics, or it didn’t happen.

I’ve written a lot about Grey, lately. I’ve told you about his art work, his humor, his cats. The changes are very incremental at this age, and hard for even the very close to tell much about. Grey is doing really well these days. He seems very happy. He likes second grade. He (mostly) likes after school. He has enjoyed music lately, focusing on some favorite songs. He loves math, Legos, comic books, Phineas and Ferb and mystery novels. He loves video games, and shows the appalling facility with them so common among boys of a certain age. He has made and kept really good friends, with whom he spends as much time as he can finagle. He vacillates between self-absorbed and considerate, but is making progress towards spending more time in considerate side of the spectrum. He’s playing soccer on Team Greece (which is a very good team!) and likes hanging out on the porch reading – which is what he’s doing at this very moment, listening to music on his new MP3 player (the cheap version).

He’s developing amazing independence. He can do things like change batteries in a device that needs a screwdriver to open (including the finding a screwdriver part). He has been walking by himself to nearby places: the used book store, the library, the post office, the park. He remembers to do things I don’t know about, like wear the right shirt on Red Sox day.

I remember when Grey was three months old, Adam and I lamented he would ever grow since he was ideal at the phase he was and we wanted nothing more than to just pause him in time and keep him there. I am glad I didn’t… eight year old Grey is too good to miss out on!