Birthday blues

As I post my first writing I am waxing nostalgic. It is my Micah's last day of being an eight year old. How did this happen? Seems only a moment ago that I was holding him in my arms. And then he was toddling into my room saying "schlosch-schlosch" (which, I learned, is toddler-speak for socks). Shortly thereafter he was racing off to kindergarten - and I mean racing in the literal sense. I had to stop and catch my breath before meeting his teacher. So tomorrow he will be nine. I will be careful not to blink for fear that he will be going off to college if I do . . .