And Then He Was Seven…

Seven years is the blink of an eye. It is a lifetime. It is an itch. It is the space between then and now, a notch on a timeline.  It is both the twinkle in my eye and the wrinkle stemming from it.

Seven years are made of memories and milestones.  They are covered in dirt and blood and various types of art supplies. Seven years fill you with happiness and they leave you hungry for more.

You can barely cram seven years into seven years.

Today Atticus turns seven.  Time, it flies.

Happy 7th birthday, Atticus.  May it be your happiest yet.

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The aforementioned memories and milestones:

Year 1

Year 2

Year 3

Year 4 Part I & Part II

Year 5

Year 6 Part I & Part II

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