Boston had a eight-is-great birthday. We were smart and filled his birthday request of going to Seven Peaks before it closed a few days before his birthday just in case the weather was bad. His actual birthday was pretty low key with lots of yummy food (crepes with nutella and whip cream for breakfast, leftover pizza for lunch, spaghetti for dinner, and of course, sunbeam bundt cake, also Martha Stewart's watermelon raspberry jumble on vanilla ice cream for the non-chocolate folk among my inlaws). I even made him clean his room on his birthday, making the case that he only got to have part of the day for his birthday since the earlier trip to Seven Peaks "counted". He got legos, scout stuff, Skip-bo, gum, books and moolah. What item caused the most envy? Gum of course. I think he shared. The books have also been more of a hit than I expected. My most favorite daily sentence out of him lately is, "Can't I just read one more page, Mom?" Yesssss!
He is excited to be eight because that is when he is allowed to get baptized, being old enough to understand what kind of commitment he is making --the age of accountability. His baptism date is planned for the end of the month but we don't know if it will be morning or afternoon yet.
Eight is also a big deal because he got to start Cub Scouts. Mark was awesome to pick up all his gear and sit with him and pass off his first rank of Bobcat. His den leaders came and met with us and told us what to expect. He was super excited to go to his first after school den meeting. I walked him over to the church in full uniform--shirt tucked in (by specific request of the leaders) belt on, neckerchief cinched up tight. Super cute. I was a little worried though, when we got there, ALL of the boys had flung their uniform shirts over their T shirts and they weren't even buttoned up. Boston kept looking at them, and at himself, and at me. I waited for the dirty look. Finally he said, "Mom, those guys must be the Bears." Good for you, my little wolf! Much to my relief, when I came to pick him up, there were two other little fellas in full buttoned up regalia. I told Mark that night, maybe this is weird, but I SOOO want my boys to be the buttoned-up types--the example setters, the leaders, the ones that others can count on to do what's right. I want them to be the 12 year old deacons that actually pull out the hymn books and sing! Please boys, do it for your mama!
Then he came downstairs with his Sunday belt, folded it in half and cracked it a few times. "Mom, I think I just did this one." He pointed at a page in his scout book. I looked it over and explained that he was supposed to put on a skit using the following sound effects--there were several--so off he went to collect the remaining listed items. A few minutes later we were seated on the couch, listening to his "radio broadcast" from the next room. That kid knew exactly what he was doing.
"It was a dark and stormy night!" Thunder, thunder, rain rain.
"The phone rang!" Ring ring. "The secret agent answered the phone. It was an eeeeevil bad guy. He said (in a menacing voice) 'come to the Shangri La Hotel!'" (?!)
"So, the secret agent got on his horse (I snickered at this point) and rode to the hotel." Clop, clop. (The clopping continued for about two straight minutes. I don't know if Boston was visualizing the ride and trying to make it a realistic travel time, or if he was trying to figure out what would happen once the secret agent got off of his horse.)
"He opened the door. Then..." Bang! Bang! Bang! "went the bad guy's pistol. The secret agent pulled out his gun." Bang bang bang bang .....etc. for a long time. "Then, the phone rang." Ring, ring. "It was another secret agent. He was coming to the Shangri La hotel." Clop, clopping, bang banging. "He shot the bad guy. The end."
Of course, Cooper and Macy also had to try it out, and my house became a vaudeville act for the rest of the evening. I signed it off in his book because, at home, Mom is the akela.