The boys turn eight this month and I keep having these moments where I see them and they look old. They look like proper big kids suddenly. They say things that make sense on a regular basis – and not just make sense to me, but make sense to the world at large. They can count their own money. They read proper books. They write clever stories. They come in my room in the morning and instead of whispering that they need to me to come fix something, they whisper that they’re going to the playground before school starts. And that school is technically third grade. Third grade!
I know they’re really still little. But this time of the year just before the birthday, I always have a stretch where I feel like their growth has sneaked up on me.