Seven

We suspected he'd be smart, we knew he'd be silly, but we really never considered that someday (today!) Ben would be seven.
 

But he woke up this morning and asked, "Do I look seven?"

Clearly I'm the wrong one to ask, for two reasons. First, Ben will always look like a baby to me. But also, I remember seven. I was naughty. I gossiped. I had crushes on the boys. (Hello, Jeff Knepp and Michael Jimenez. Damn, you were cute.)

But perhaps not all sevens look alike. At least, I'm hopeful. Case in point:

Yesterday, Ben was doing some sort of strut (a separate issue) to my car after school. As he runway-walked, his classmate Eugenie shouted, "Ben, you're sexy!"

He stopped cold. I gasped.

She said it again: "Ben, you're SEXY!" 

Then he said: "No Eugenie, I'm seven!"

Phew. I have more time.