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Browsing Tag: this is seven

Then Anything is Possible: Happy Thanksgiving

It’s 7:15 on Sunday morning. I’ve just sat down on the couch with a newspaper and the first, and therefore most precious, cup of coffee of the day. Cian’s already here in the living room playing, and he abandons his toys when I sit to climb up beside me and rest his head on my shoulder. He says good morning, and that’s where the expected slow start to my day goes into hyperdrive. “Mom?” he says. “If anything is possible, then nothing is possible.” I’m still in my pajamas. I’ve had one–one!–sip from the hot mug of coffee I still hold in my hand. I am not ready for seven-year-old philosophy yet, but Cian’s thought process moves at a speed that requires the under-caffeinated to catch up. I think for a second. Take another sip. “But, buddy,” I say, “think about this: the word ‘any’ can be all things. Like if we talk about ‘anyone,’ we’re really talking about all people. So what does that…

This is Seven Years Old, but at 6:15 a.m.

I shared this to my personal Facebook page on a whim the other day, but this is something I want to remember, so here we go, blogged for all posterity (er, or just for my archives): The other morning, I woke Cian up for school, as usual, at 6:15. He opened one eye. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked. I told him, and he nodded with approval. Then: “What’s for lunch?” I told him, and he nodded again. There was a final follow-up question: “What’s for dinner?” I told him, and this time I got a smile in return. He opened the other eye and motioned me off his bed. “Okay,” he said, this time with a sigh. “I’ll get up.” I’m still wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t liked what he heard…

The Mighty Shows Up: It’s Quinlan’s First Holy Communion

My youngest girl received her first holy communion this past Saturday. If you’re unfamiliar with Catholicism, all you need to know is that this is a Big Deal in Catholicland. It’s the beginning of a kiddo’s journey to adulthood, the first of many decisions she’ll make as a child growing up in a religion hoisted on her by her parents, and, frankly, one of the first times her parents look at her and can really glimpse what she’ll be like as an adult. Cue ALL THE TEARS. David and I drove ourselves nuts the week before the ceremony–since first communion always takes place in the springtime, you’re basically forced to do all of the usual spring cleaning and yard work in the space of a hot minute in order to make sure people don’t show up to your house and wonder if you’re working your way through a depression. We painted things and stained things and framed things and, well, all of the things. We ate a lot of pizza for dinner (“Pizza again? Didn’t we just have pizza…