The Swagger of a 6 Year-Old

a tribute to my oldest son

You burst into the kitchen in a ninja stance,

ready for battle with your light saber tucked into the sash of your fleece robe.

The outfit is the same—your favorite!

Sweatshirt, vest, sweatpants, and rain boots, topped with your “cloak,”

and you are Buzz Lightyear, Hans (Frozen), and Hiccup (How to Train your Dragon)

all at the same time.

We are constantly in a state of pretend,

fighting off bugs and vines, defending the world from invaders and aliens,

and flying with dragons.

Your imagination astounds me.

Letting myself enter your world always reminds me

that there is so much more going on than what meets the eye.

A snapshot memory I keep is seeing you run around the backyard,

sword wielded against imaginary enemies,

hearing your commentary as you race in and out of the treehouse

and bounce on the trampoline.

I can watch and listen happily from the kitchen,

slowly stirring sauce and noodles and setting the table,

marveling at you.

You are old enough to get ready by yourself in the morning,

rising to get dressed, feed your fish, and make your bed.

You help me constantly, grabbing things from other rooms and

bringing in groceries, putting your jacket and shoes away

along with helping your little brother do the same.

When he cries, you try to help find the toy he’s looking for,

and bring him a favorite book or snack to share.

You are young enough to want songs and stories before bed,

padding into the hallway after we’ve said goodnight

to ask for a few more cozies.

You tear up when talking about growing up and moving out of our house one day,

no matter how much I tell you that, by that time, you’ll be ready.

You eat like a teenage boy and will quickly surpass me in height.

And you still get excited for dum dums at the bank, and ice cream at Chick-fil-A.

You prompt me to pray for our day before we get to school,

and you melt my heart with,

“I wouldn’t want any other mommy than you.”

A smile lights up your face when we lock eyes after school,

and you run down the ramp to give me a hug, backpack slung over your shoulder,

those beloved rain boots adorning your feet.

There is magic in our days,

wonder in your eyes,

pep in your step,

and joy in your heart.

You are exactly who God made you to be.

I can’t believe I get to be your Mama!

I delight in you, my Judah Bean.

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Sway."