17 years old.
I just keep thinking . . . this is it. This is our "last" year. Yes, he'll always be my son, and I'll always be his mom. Our days of guiding and teaching and discipling are certainly not over and never will be over. It'll just be different. He'll be an adult and no longer our "child." Are you considered an adult at the age of 18? Or 21? I think it's 18. So. This is it. Next year when July 13 rolls around, we'll have an adult son.
When your birthday is the same time as Youth VBS, you get two cakes. One at VBS (which he was totally aggravated about because I surprised him) . . .
And the other was his "real" cake.
He never asks for much, if anything at all. So this year he asked for one thing. I know absolutely nothing about this, except that he only wears them on bright and sunny days with zero chance of rain. And he doesn't bend his ankles when he walks so he, in turn, won't bend the toe of the shoe. I can't tell you what kind they are, only that they have something to do with Michael Jordan. And he was pretty happy.
I thought that meant the ugly Adidas that used to be white but are now some sort of gray color would hit the road. But remember when I said he doesn't wear Jordans if it might rain? Did you know that it has rained EVERYDAY here for the last 45 days? So, if you're doing the math, that means he's still wearing the dirty Adidas everyday.
