Since I haven't yet planned John's birthday party (for him and his friends, not the family one), I have nothing to distract myself from the fact that seven years ago from this moment I was having a close encounter with the amazing and awe-inspiring item known as a mucous plug.
In many ways, it's not hard to believe that John is seven. He's been doing more "kid" things lately -- the jokes he's hearing for the first time ("What's worse than finding a worm in your apple? Finding half a worm! HAAAAA HA HA HA HA A HAH AHA AHA HA HA HA HAH AAH HAAAAAAA!"), the things he finds interesting now, the questions ("Is King Arthur real?"). He comes up to my sternum and has two loose teeth.
But, seven. Sheesh.