Happy birthday my little stink Meister.

Seth Ammon is 7 today. I'm not sure what to think about that. 7 is sort of grown up, he smells grown up these days, especially on these humind days where he spends many hours playing basketball and bouncing on trampolines and not being keen to wash anything.

He is all boy.

He is going through a phase of super independance, he can do it himself. He can decide what to wear and how long to wear it and all 3 have decided that they no longer like pyjamas, that makes me very sad. I love clean and sweet smelling boys in cosy pyjamas. Tell me it's a phase and any evening now they will all decide that ack what were they thinking when the insist on wearing shorts to bed? Even though I have bathed and scrubbed and dried and handed them clean shorts, I still can't look at them and get all smooshy about how clean and comfy they are and all ready for bed, how cute! Can I admit that I actually used to get them ready for bed and make sure that should we all have need to be rescued in the night, the firemen would be impressed by how cute and clean and all matching pyjama'd we all were? ( when they were tiny babies I never EVER put them in a cot with even the tiniest bit of drool or sick on the sheet, because what if they died and someone took away all the bedding and saw that I was so slovenly as to not change a cot sheet? )

Not that I am mad or anything.

Now what? Burly firemen tut tutting about how that woman puts her kids to bed in clothes for heavens sake?! The shame, being the point of discussion and derision around the fire engine room or wherever they sit and have hot chocolate and discuss who the best dressed family were on this month's call outs.

Seth still has all but 2 of his little teeth, H was convinced that he would have more big teeth by the time he was 7, he sat at the table this evening and had Seth wiggle the top ones to make sure that they were really still very solid and not wobbly and likely to fall out overnight, tooth fairies can have a night off ( again) the stinky shoe fairy is going to have to come and throw away those running shoes though because they stink, really really STINK. Seth loves those shoes, he has taken to not wearing socks and then putting on these steaming shoes.

Did I used to kiss those feet? Willingly and with great delight? I think I did, I remember loving the smell of his little baby feet. Growing up is so sad, for the mummy anyway. Smells are everything to a mummy, that newborn head smell, silky little heads and necks and ears, breathe that deliciousness in, bottle it and love it and make it last as long as you can because slowly, the head starts to get that boy smell, that sticky sort of hot smell, I don't think Sophie ever got that smell, she always smelled a bit heavenly, 'til she started to smoke.

The little boy foot smell becomes something you avoid at all costs, frighteningly early. Seth's feet are toxic when he has been wearing those shoes. When he wakes up I am taking him to choose some new running shoes with air vents and leather and the stinky shoe fairy is coming to get those beloved foul things and taking them to a place far, far away.

I love the excitement that comes with little peoples' birthdays, such joy in mentioning how many days and sleeps until 'the day', at bed time saying " night night, see you when you're 7."

I love watching them and knowing that for the whole day they feel different. I can remember that feeling, how special you are because this is your day and you are SO much older than you were yesterday.

We are promised sunshine today, if it comes then we are doing the water party, friends and pools and hotdogs and cake ( which actually, I haven't even made because we didn't have enough eggs, who can remember eggs when cleaning 2 houses and ferrying boxes here there and everywhere? )

It is almost 2am, I had better go to bed because soon he will be up and be 7 and want all kinds of exciting things. Seven. Happy birthday Seth Meister.