Timothy’s 8th Birthday

 

His birthday eyes started the night before his 8th birthday. We snuggled into my bed and I wrapped him up as tight as I could to hold on to the last little sliver of seven. We snapped selfies and laughed so hard that it was impossible to get any of them crisp and clear; he was just. too. excited to stay still for 2 whole seconds for the exposure. I love them all the more for it.

But try as I might to keep that last little sliver of seven from slipping away, the morning came and turned him eight. His birthday started with breakfast and presents.

And then he and I climbed into the car and drove into town for some shopping and lunch. We picked Old Navy because they were one of the only retail stores that had open dressing rooms and, after almost a year of not shopping for anything, I really wasn't entirely sure what size he'd need. He was so excited just to be out and shopping on his birthday that he came out of the dressing room dancing like a duck every. single. time. Not that I know, exactly, what a duck looks like when he's dancing, but after watching Timothy I have an idea.

Even after he'd tried on a couple of things so we were comfortable with his size, he still begged to try on every single piece we pulled off the racks because "it is just so fun!" So I spent lots and lots of minutes on the bench just outside that dressing room door clapping and admiring every t-shirt.

After shopping we headed out to his favorite restaurant for lunch, Zupas, where he ordered his standard cauliflower soup and grilled cheese sandwich.

While we were eating, a man dressed in ragged clothes came up to our table and asked if I had any money for a bus ticket. I don't carry cash on me and told him as much just as a Zupas worker came and escorted him out of the building. It hardly caused a ripple in my moment and I turned my attention back to my beautiful 8-year-old, ready to ask him another probing question to find out more about his brain and his life. But Timothy's demeanor had noticeably changed and, after a few minutes, he revisited the moment.

"Why do you think he needed a bus ticket, Mom?"

"Why couldn't he buy one?"

"I feel sad for him."

"I hope he gets home okay."

"Mom, do you think we could ask all the rich people in the world to help the poor people?"

Discussing the hards of life with him in that moment was... hard. His heart was pulling for that man, and I felt guilty that my heart had not been. Through my conversation with Timothy, I started to wish I had offered to buy the man lunch, to have a seat at our table, to hear his story. It had been a non-threatening situation, and I could have been so much more compassionate and understanding. Timothy is such a good example of love, and we are so blessed to have him in our home.

Eventually, we made it back home ourselves and pulled out the cake and candles.

And he went to bed a very happy 8-year-old.

A few days later, his friends came over for a birthday party.

His best friend, Ezra, has a birthday just two days before Timothy, so they decided to do a joint party. We had games in the backyard, pool, pizza... it was perfect.

Happy Birthday, Handsome Boy!