Today our son, Chandler, turned seven. He was so excited, like most children are, but I find it harder with each year that expires to be all that happy about it.
Oh, I beg God to slow down time, but He doesn't listen, despite my promises to exercise patience with slow drivers on the highway or with folks who check out in the Kroger fast lane with MORE THAN FIFTEEN ITEMS. My requests for my children to remain little go unheard.
Driving to school this morning, we all were surprised with signs of birthday congratulations for Chandler placed by Mimi and Dude the night before. (These are the grandparents. Mimi is the grandmother, Dude is the grandfather and not menu item #13 at the Western Sizzler as the name would suggest.)
The delight in my son’s eyes as he read each sign we passed on our way to school was a joy I will long hold dear in my heart. Even if it does mean he is a year older.
The first of many signs:
( Chan-Yaaa!! is the nickname we gave him during his Power Ranger loving days.)
Opening of presents:
Birthday dinner with Mimi and #13:
Daddy, Mary Mac and Chase:
Josh and Julie:
Blowing out the seven - BIG SNIFF - candles:
Joyous Baby Briggs:
Collection of signs we passed on our way to school:
Happy birthday sweet Chandler. The world is a better place because you are in it. Oh, how we love you!